


Always the Best Man

by Water_Nix



Category: Glee
Genre: Kurt Big Bang - Freeform, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship, Weddings, kurt big bang challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Water_Nix/pseuds/Water_Nix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It sometimes feels as though Kurt spends every weekend being dragged out to yet another wedding, although he himself has vowed to never tie the knot. A string of failed relationships have taught him that true love is a fantasy, and just when he’s managed to stop that particular type of daydream, he meets a man who seems to have stepped right out of all his favourite ones. With that complication and then the drunken confession of a good friend, Kurt is sent into a tailspin. He’s got his single friends finding love at every turn—and hell, even people’s dogs are getting hitched for God’s sake—the last thing he needs is to discover that he hasn’t lost hope for a special day of his own. A romantic comedy told over the course of five weddings. Kurt/past OCs. Kurt/Blaine endgame. (Also background Mercedes/Sam, Santana/Brittany, Rachel/Jesse, Cooper/anyone who’s ready and willing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my submission for the Kurt Big Bang this year. Many, many thanks to my betas, wheretheshadowslie and sandyeyes for picking out my typos and weirdness. <3 to both of you. And to hopelesslydevotedgleek for stepping in and creating such lovely artwork; it was wonderful working with you! 
> 
> This story was inspired by the film 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', but not to worry, I left out the funeral bit. There is a touch of angst, but not due to that. 
> 
> All art within was created by the superb [hopelesslydevotedgleek](hopelesslydevotedgleek.tumblr.com).

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_**  
 ** _~Peter & Stephen~_**

**_Hôtel Plaza Athénée_**

**_37 East 64th Street_**

**_New York, New York_**

**_May 1st_**  
 ** _~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_**

What finally wakes him is a shoe. Or, more specifically, the memory of one. Rachel had spilled a few drops of wine on it the night before and he’d treated it to rid it of the stain immediately, but he’d had to go to bed before it was entirely dry. The shoe winds its way into his dreams, taunting him with _ruined, ruined, ruined forever more and what else matches your tux, hmm? Whatever shall you wear?_

Tux. 

Wedding. 

Best man. 

Bright illuminated numbers on his bedside table: 10:15. 

_Fuuuuuuck._

The first thing he thinks, after his brain has exhausted all of the obvious expletives, is that Peter is going to murder him. And Kurt knows after sharing a tiny dorm room with the man for two years that he can be incredibly creative when he has it in for someone, even if he is terribly dull when it comes to his wardrobe. 

“Rachel!” he yells into the apartment. He hears no answer so he rolls out of his bed, landing on the floor in a crouch like a cat, and then springs upwards, dashing for the closed door of his bedroom. 

___He finds Rachel still in dreamland and wonders how they both managed to sleep through their alarms. That bottle of wine the night before had been a bad idea on many levels, and not just due to shoe staining mishaps._ _ _

___He leans down and shakes her awake, too worked up to do it the least bit calmly. She bolts out of bed the moment he says, “wedding”, and they rush through very shortened versions of their usual routines. He’s only glad that Rachel had showered and put her hair in rollers before going to bed._ _ _

___As they are running out the door of their building, already shouting for a taxi, he catches her by the shoulder and pries out a roller she’d missed in her haste. She pecks him on the cheek and they rush forward to hail a cab._ _ _

___They aren’t the only late arrivals it would seem. As Kurt all but throws too much money at the cab driver and takes off to catch up with Rachel, he sees several familiar faces rushing into the Hôtel Athénée. Of course none of them are the best man, he reminds himself, darting in as the doorman pulls open the heavy front door and heading directly towards the room he’d become familiar with not two days ago at the rehearsal._ _ _

___He sees Blaine and Mercedes seated at the end of an aisle as he hurries past and Blaine makes a face at him that is half cringe, half laugh. Kurt winks and tries to smile, his expression quickly morphing into one of abject apology when he sees Peter’s chalky face at the front of the room, Cooper standing next to him._ _ _

Peter waves Cooper back to his seat with a low, “thanks”, and grabs Kurt by the arm. “I can’t believe you almost missed my damn wedding!” he says between gritted teeth. “I’ve been kind of freaking out here, and Cooper is not very good at talking a guy down. He kept offering to take me out drinking, or to someplace called _Bum Bum_ , which is either a gay whorehouse or a strip club.” 

___“I think it’s a bar. Over on—”_ _ _

___“I don’t care where it is, Kurt. God.”_ _ _

___Kurt takes Peter by the shoulders and turns him away from the wedding guests. “It’s fine, Peter. You love Stephen, right? He’s the light of your life, the yin to your yang, the only guy you’d ever consider marrying who can’t carry a tune. These are all direct quotes. I have more, but I’ll have to consult the handy list I made in my phone if you need ‘em.”_ _ _

___Peter shakes his head and heaves a sigh before he finally smiles. “You’re right. I’m an idiot. Everything will be fine.”_ _ _

___Kurt winks and nods, giving one of Peter’s shoulders a squeeze. “And the next time you need a best man substitute, pick Blaine instead of Cooper for God’s sake. What were you even thinking?”_ _ _

___“I wasn’t! He volunteered!”_ _ _

___Kurt snorts a laugh and turns Peter around. “Of course he did.”_ _ _

And then he watches the transformation, the metamorphosis a person’s face undergoes when they see their love come towards them as they’re about to get married. It’s his favourite part of a wedding, though he’d never admit that to anyone. On paper and aloud—extremely loudly most of the time—Kurt hates weddings and never wants to partake in another as long as he lives, thank you very much. It just feels as though, as he’s inched closer and closer to thirty, everyone and their dog is getting married. In all seriousness, he has actually been invited to the weddings of people’s dogs. And with every new _Save the Date_ he receives in the mail, his hatred for the entire thing grows exponentially. 

As a kid, Kurt loved weddings. He’d married off his action figures and then divorced them just so he could marry them again and again. He didn’t jive with that hokey second wedding thing some couples force on their loved ones even then. _‘Til Death Do Us Part_ was a one-time declaration. At least one time per couple. 

___And Stephen does look handsome, though Kurt only wishes he understood the look on Peter’s face upon seeing him. Kurt has never been so foolishly in love that’s he’s ever felt an inclination to stare in rapt wonder at one of his boyfriends. They always start out fun and then go downhill with varying degrees of quickness. With varying degrees of horror. The most horrific being the mime he’d dated... But it’s better to forget about the mime. Even though Santana is fond of digging out a pair of gloves and doing impressions of him whenever she gets drunk._ _ _

___Kurt spots her in the crowd of guests just behind Mercedes and Blaine, flanked by Brittany and Rachel. She winks at him and gives him a thumbs up and he notices something glinting in the glow of the soft lights. Her ring._ _ _

_The rings._

He feels in the pocket of his waistcoat, though he knows they aren’t there. He didn’t put them in there before tumbling tipsily into bed and he sure didn’t think twice about them this morning. He bugs out his eyes at Santana and stealthily shows her his left hand as the ceremony begins, pointing at his ring finger with a look of abject terror on his face. When she shrugs and rolls her eyes at him, he mouths _rings_ and makes a slashing motion across his own neck. Peter notices the movement out of the corner of his eye and raises his eyebrows at Kurt. Kurt smiles demurely and then looks towards Santana again once Peter has focused back in on the ceremony. She’s whispering with his group of friends. Cooper is shaking his head, as are Rachel and Blaine. Santana seems to be yanking at Mercedes’ arm for a second before she looks back up with bright eyes and a grin on her face and gives him a thumbs up. A second later, Cooper is sidling up to Kurt and slipping two warm circles of metal into his hand. Kurt sighs and glances down and nearly has a heart attack. 

___The rings are large and garish. He recognizes one as something he’d tried to keep Mercedes from buying when they’d gone out shopping in Lima the last time they’d both been home for Christmas, and the other, the other is even worse._ _ _

___Mercedes’ ring is a large silver heart inlaid with a pair of doves whose wings stick out ridiculously from the sides. The other, which Kurt assumes Santana procured from Brittany, is an enormous plastic, technicolour unicorn head attached to a cheap metal band. It’s the most atrocious thing he has ever seen. And now he has to pass it off to one of his good friends to use to swear fidelity and life-long love to his soon to be husband. Jesus._ _ _

___But Peter just sighs when Kurt hands over the rings with his eyes as wide and sad as he can manage. The Justice of the Peace gives them an odd look and Stephen nearly bursts out laughing, but all in all, it goes over well._ _ _

___When they get to the ‘you may now kiss’ moment of the ceremony, Kurt looks away. He smiles at Blaine, who he can see watching him from five rows back, and Blaine returns his smile before looking down at his lap._ _ _

___Kurt hates the kiss part. It makes something wriggle in his chest, some long forgotten feeling that he does not wish to revisit. He’s over those sorts of fantasies. They are never going to happen for him, so why bother getting his hopes up only to be left alone again and again? Not that he’d ever been left, not really. He was the one who did the leaving. But the romantic disillusionment is enough of a disappointment in and of itself._ _ _

___Another thing he detests are receiving lines. He’s been in far too many weddings over the past few years and getting hugged and kissed and surreptitiously felt up by strangers and frenemies is not one of his most happy wedding memories._ _ _

His face is just beginning to ache from the smile he’s plastered on it and the constant _thank yous_ that he’s been spewing when Blaine gets to him. He gratefully falls forward into Blaine’s arms and gives him a genuine hug, instead of the insincere back pats and barely touching embraces he’s been sharing with Peter and Stephen’s family and friends. 

___“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he whispers into Blaine’s ear. “Break me outta here.”_ _ _

___“No way, you must greet all of your fans.”_ _ _

___Kurt pulls back enough to give Blaine a glare before burrowing into his neck where he knows Blaine is the most ticklish, something he discovered while drunk his junior year of college. “But you smell good,” he whispers. “That old man with the green suspenders smelled like feet and boiled eggs and it made me feel like yakking.”_ _ _

___“Aw, poor baby,” Blaine says. His voice sounds strange, a little strangled almost, but Kurt assumes it’s due to the fact that he is still nosing at Blaine’s ticklish spot and Blaine is far too polite to allow himself to break into giggles and wiggles in the middle of a receiving line. “We’re causing a traffic jam and people are glaring at me,” Blaine says with a forced giggle. “I have to go.”_ _ _

___“Noooo!”_ _ _

But Blaine pokes Kurt in _his_ most ticklish spot—below the ribs—and breaks out of Kurt’s hold. Kurt sticks his tongue out at him. “Some friend you are!” Kurt stage whispers and Blaine winks before turning away to greet Stephen’s sister. 

___Mercedes and Rachel kiss him simultaneously on each cheek and then hurry away before he can beg them to save him as he begged Blaine before them. A heavily powered old lady follows after them. She kisses Kurt on the cheek too, and he’s sure she’s left a red lipstick mark. There is no way she could have avoided it; her lips were blood red and shiny as though she had reapplied her lipstick just before landing a smacker on him. He scrubs angrily at the mark he knows is there, glaring so hard at the lady’s back that he makes the next person in line wait for several uncomfortable seconds._ _ _

___“Here, let me,” says a deep, melodic voice. Kurt swings his eyes around to see a tall, gorgeous dark haired man with perfectly straight white teeth and the most adorable, deep dimples that Kurt has ever seen on an adult human. Dimples reaches across with a baby blue handkerchief and wipes off Kurt’s cheek, then lays the tips of his fingers on Kurt’s cheekbone, gently turning his head into the light so he can be sure he got rid off all traces of lipstick. “There you are, good as new.”_ _ _

___Kurt tries to speak, but all that escapes him is an airy laugh. He can feel his face heating up, soon to be the colour of the lipstick Handsome Dimples just wiped off his cheek. “Thank you,” he finally manages. “For saving the day…” He leaves it hanging, hoping Dimples will fill in his name. He’s not disappointed._ _ _

___“Derek,” he says, reaching out to clasp Kurt’s hand with both of his large, strong ones. Kurt looks down and notices dark hair on the backs of them, poking out of the arms of Derek’s crisp linen suit. Very masculine. He almost sighs._ _ _

___“Nice to meet you, I’m Kurt,” he manages to answer._ _ _

___Derek smiles, flashing his dimples again. “Well I certainly hope to see more of you later this evening,” he says, and nods his head before turning away._ _ _

___Kurt feels flushed. He gets through the rest of the receiving line in a daze and as soon as he enters the reception room, his eyes immediately scan for the handsome stranger._ _ _

___When he spots him near the back of the room talking with one of Stephen’s business partners, he tugs Blaine to his side, not taking his eyes off of the man candy. “Who is that guy?” he asks, “I’ve never seen him before, and damn, I would remember if I had.”_ _ _

___“He’s, um, he just moved back from Europe, I think. I heard Peter talking to him earlier. Apparently he’s a magazine editor or something. A friend of Stephen’s older brother. He’s got a bit of a reputation as a… bed hopper.”_ _ _

___Kurt turns to look at Blaine at last only to find him staring at the screen of his phone. There aren’t even any apps open. “Well it’s only right that he spread that around, don’t you think?” he jokes, knocking Blaine in the side with his elbow. Blaine smiles weakly and taps his photo app and begins scrolling through the images._ _ _

___Kurt scrunches his face at Blaine’s odd behaviour. “He was kind of flirting with me earlier. I guess we shall see, huh?”_ _ _

___Blaine nods his head but doesn’t look up. “Sorry, I’ve got to, um… I told Coop I would show him something, so…”_ _ _

___“Okay…”_ _ _

___“I’ll see you… Good luck on your speech!” Blaine gives him a wobbly smile before turning and disappearing into the throng of wedding guests looking for their seats._ _ _

___Up at the head table, Kurt sits through the Master of Ceremonies’ obnoxious attempt at singing, smiling with his mouth and not his eyes and forcing laughter at every stupid joke. He sees Santana filing her nails at her table, Brittany rubbing her back next to her. He wishes he could hide away in the crowd as they do, instead of being up on display at the front of the room where he has to feign politeness instead of mocking the cheesiness with his best friends._ _ _

___When Kurt stands up to give his speech he notices Sir Derek of Dimples smiling at him from the tables and nearly stumbles over his opening. He starts off with a couple of embarrassing anecdotes about Peter at NYADA: unrecommended crushes and bad serenades and drunken shenanigans. The room erupts in laughter; they're eating out of his hand after the first story. But then he looks over at his friend and his new husband—red-faced and laughing along with their guests, and something tightens in his chest, like a stranglehold on his heart. It's amazing, what they've just done, brave beyond measure._ _ _

___“And I'd like to just end by saying that as always I am in awe of any couple who is ready and willing, enthusiastic even, to make such a commitment. I'm not sure if I would ever be able to manage it. So... to Peter and Stephen!” He raises his champagne flute, hearing his toast echoing back at him from the assembled friends and family seated before him. He keeps his eyes on the grooms as he takes his drink, making himself watch this time as the press their lips together, smiling and in love._ _ _

___The music at the reception is straight from Kurt's worst nightmares. He stands against the wall with Mercedes, watching Brittany and Santana grind up on each other while a whole lot of uncoordinated people surrounding them on all sides attempt to keep time to the beat. Derek has been mostly absent from the party, popping up now and again to dance with guys who are not Kurt and disappear again. Kurt suspects he had been wrong about the flirting and tries not to be too depressed about that._ _ _

He turns to Mercedes to ask her what she thinks of his predicament, when he notices her talking to a tall blond guy with enormous lips. Like really big. He almost looks bizarre. Plus, his hair is totally dyed. Kurt would bet his collection of scarves that he’ll have roots growing in in as little as two weeks if he doesn’t touch them up before then. And Kurt knows what _that_ means, but apparently Mercedes does not. She’s tilting her head coquettishly while Lips informs her that many people meet their future spouses at weddings, and starts spewing percentages and facts about school romances and blind dates. It makes Kurt’s head spin so he takes another drink and bugs out his eyes, grateful to find Blaine coming over to join them. He needs someone to commiserate with, and Blaine is one of his favourite people with whom to do just that. 

He widens his eyes and mouths ‘ _gay_ ’ at Blaine, who scrunches up his face and hands Kurt a fresh glass of wine. Bless him. 

___“Yes, I am,” Blaine says, smiling cheekily. “Pretty sure I told you that years ago.”_ _ _

“Not _you_ ,” Kurt says, “Well, yes you, but not in this instance.” 

___He’s about to explain when Mercedes grabs his arm and he looks up to see that Dye Job with the Lips has been pulled away by a guy with limp, mousey hair and a long face. Probably his boyfriend. “Wasn’t he cute?” Mercedes asks, making eyes at Lips’ muscular back._ _ _

___“Oh God, Mercedes, you know I love you, but please do not try and set me up with some random guy at a wedding. Please. I’ve come to terms with my future of most certain loneliness.”_ _ _

___Mercedes slaps him on the arm. “Not you, dumbass, me! He was just flirting with me!”_ _ _

___“Mercedes, I hate to be the bearer of gay news, but Lips Man likes him some boy parts.”_ _ _

___“Uh uh, he was getting his flirt on.” She shakes her head and takes a drink of her cocktail. “You’re wrong.”_ _ _

“Oh, like _I_ was getting my flirt on when we first met, you mean?” Kurt asks, and she shoots him a glare. 

___“Shut up, I was just a kid then! I can tell what flirting is now and if a dude is gay, thank you very much.”_ _ _

___“Not if you think Blondy is straight, you can’t. Aren’t I right, Blaine?” Kurt turns to his left to find Blaine staring off into space._ _ _

___“Huh?”_ _ _

___Kurt points with his head. “Blondy over there. The one with lips. Gay or nay?”_ _ _

___“Oh… I, um… I hadn’t noticed him.” Blondy must feel the three sets of eyes on him, because he turns in their direction and flashes a bright smile and half of his face disappears. Kurt feels blinded. “Well, he just winked at Mercedes, so I’m going to have to go with straight,” Blaine finishes._ _ _

___“What? No way.”_ _ _

___“Told ya so, Kurt.” Mercedes looks smug. She downs the remainder of her drink and passes Kurt the empty glass, adjusting her spectacular chest and putting on her game face. “I’m gonna get me a piece of that,” she says._ _ _

___Blaine laughs. “Go for it, Miss Jones.” He takes the empty glass from Kurt’s hands and sets on a nearby table as they watch her strut her stuff over to the guy. His smile grows exponentially and Kurt shrugs. So he was wrong. At least the guy has the good taste to pick out Mercedes Jones in a crowded room, even if he’s not who Kurt would have chosen for her himself were he attempting to set her up._ _ _

___“What is it with her and nerdy white boys?” Kurt asks, truly puzzled. He takes another swallow of wine. “That guy had no game. He spouted off stats to her and I’m too drunk for mental math, but they added up to way more than a hundred percent.”_ _ _

___“We all have our types,” Blaine answers, watching as Lips offers Mercedes his arm and leads her onto the dance floor._ _ _

___“Oh, _really_. So tell me, Blaine, what’s yours?” _ _ _

___Blaine looks down into his glass, a sad sort of smile on his face. It confuses Kurt at first, but then he remembers where they are. Weddings are so damn depressing. “I’m going to get another drink,” Blaine says, not answering the question. “Would you like one?”_ _ _

___“Love one. Thanks, Angel.” Blaine nods without looking at him and heads off towards the bar._ _ _

___Kurt is so distracted by Mercedes dancing with Lips boy while his mousy-haired friend looks on with a sour expression, he doesn’t notice the approach of Derek and his dimples until he’s standing next to him holding a spare glass of wine._ _ _

___“Hello again,” he says, and Kurt thanks him when he takes the proffered glass. “Kurt Hummel. I’ve been asking around about you all night.”_ _ _

___“Oh have you? And what did you discover?”_ _ _

___Derek laughs, flashing his perfect teeth and his adorable dimples and scratches at his chin. It’s getting stubbly as the night wears on and all Kurt can think of is beard rash on his skin and how easily that stubble could mark him up all over. He clears his throat and twists around so that his jacket covers him as much as possible._ _ _

___Just as Derek opens his mouth with what’s sure to be some sort of witty repartée, Stephen’s sister Gwen bumbles over and curls a hand around Kurt’s arm. She’s been a little grabby with him ever since she got drunk at the rehearsal dinner. Kurt feels like reminding her for the hundredth time that he’s gay, gay, super gay. Preferably by laying a wet one right on Derek’s handsome, expressive mouth. But he’s getting ahead of himself._ _ _

“Isn’t this band terrible?” he says instead, once he’s made sure that Gwen and Derek are acquainted with one another. “I mean, Peter went to a performing arts college for God’s sake, surely they could have found someone with a smidgen of talent instead of these hacks.” The singer is currently bellowing the wrong lyrics to U2’s _With or Without You_ into the microphone. 

___Gwen’s brow furrows. “That’s our cousin’s band,” she says. “They’re in pretty high demand.”_ _ _

___Kurt widens his eyes and nearly chokes on nothing. Shit. “I, um… I’m sure they must be. In an alternative, um, setting,” he attempts to backtrack. He smiles at Gwen, though he’s sure it comes off wobbly. “I, um, they’re—”_ _ _

___He turns to Derek for help, but he finds none there. Derek winks at him and backs away. Rachel is bouncing over, clearly intoxicated, as Gwen lets go of her hold on Kurt’s arm and also leaves, nose in the air._ _ _

___“Do I smell bad or something?” Rachel slurs, then pitches herself into Kurt’s arms. “I missed you!”_ _ _

___“I’m an idiot,” Kurt says. “I’m an idiot, idiot, idiot.”_ _ _

___“Oh, you are not,” Rachel answers, and kisses him on the cheek before bouncing away again. Kurt sighs to himself. Why can he never manage to keep his foot out of his mouth?_ _ _

___He chugs his fresh glass of wine with eyes closed and knocks his head against the wall. God, why does it feel as though he is constantly doing that?_ _ _

___“Rough night?”_ _ _

___“Yes, Cooper. Please remind me to say no the next time I’m asked to be in someone’s wedding party. And then to schedule an elective surgery the day of so I can avoid the torture completely.”_ _ _

___Cooper laughs a little and Kurt opens his eyes to look at him. He’s beginning to feel all of the wine he’d slammed down in such a short period of time. Cooper’s handsome face swims in his vision, his head light. He feels a bit like he’s drifting away. That is until Cooper’s hand comes down on his shoulder, the weight of it acting as a tether, holding him to the ground._ _ _

___“We’re going to take this party to the penthouse,” Cooper says. “It’s getting lame in here.”_ _ _

___“Meaning there isn’t anyone you want to sleep with left around.”_ _ _

___“There is also that. Well, besides Brittany and Santana, but I suggested that once and almost got my eyes scratched out for my troubles. Aren’t long nails a faux pas on lesbians?”_ _ _

___“You are such a dirty old man.”_ _ _

___“Whatever. As if you wouldn’t like a crack at me if I played for your team.”_ _ _

___“No thanks. You’d probably stop every couple of minutes to admire yourself in the nearest reflective surface.”_ _ _

___“Are you accusing me of vanity?” Cooper presses a hand to his chest in affront when Kurt shrugs. “All I have to say to that is this: it takes one to know one, Mr. Hummel.”_ _ _

___“Except that my vanity stems from adolescent trauma resulting in crippling insecurity and yours from the concrete fact that you are fuck hot. But you know, that might be my therapist talking.”_ _ _

___“Well thank you. And I didn’t know you had a therapist.”_ _ _

___Kurt scrunches up his nose, but that makes him feel weirdly itchy so he stops. “I don’t. I just dated one for a while. He spouted lots of bullshit, so who even knows.”_ _ _

___Cooper shakes his head, laughing again. “Anyway... my place. You in?”_ _ _

___Kurt nods. Anything sounds better than this. At least when he’s surrounded by only his closest friends he can mock the whole establishment of marriage and people’s needs to cover everything in chintz and hire hideous musical acts. “Definitely,” he answers._ _ _

___“Okay, I’ll go rally the rest of the troops. You stay here; you look about ready to keel over.”_ _ _

___Kurt begins to nod, but he thinks better of it when his head starts to spin. Best to avoid that. He’s just closed his eyes again when he hears someone else approach. “Coming to look after me, are you, Angel?” he asks, expecting Blaine. But the answering laugh belongs to someone else._ _ _

“Just coming over to ask where you’re staying tonight.” _Derek._

___“Oh, a friend’s penthouse on the Upper West Side. Moving the party to somewhere with less horrendous music.”_ _ _

___“That’s too bad. I’m just heading out and I was hoping for some company. But maybe another time. When you’ve had less to drink perhaps.” He shoots Kurt a wink._ _ _

Before Kurt has the chance to open his mouth and protest—and honestly, he’s not moving at top speed at the moment—Derek has taken his dimples and headed for the hills. “Fuck _me_ ,” Kurt says. 

___“What?” It really is Blaine this time._ _ _

___Kurt rolls to his side so that he can see Blaine next to him. It seems simpler than standing straight and turning when the wall offers such wonderful support. “Weren’t you bringing me a drink a while back?” he asks, not that he actually needs another, but he’s just remembered._ _ _

Blaine shrugs and looks down at his shoes. Kurt looks down with him to see what is so interesting. They _are_ very nice shoes. Shiny. “Well someone had already brought you one, so I drank it.” 

___“Double-fisted, huh? And I thought I was a lush.” He winks at Blaine, who gives him a crooked smile. Kurt takes a breath in and straightens up, leaning off of the wall at last. He knows he’s got Blaine with him now and Blaine would never let him fall. “Come on, Angel,” he says, and takes Blaine’s arm. “You’re coming with us to Cooper’s, right?”_ _ _

___“I, ah, yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”_ _ _

___“Good. It wouldn’t be nearly as fun without you.”_ _ _

___Cooper calls for a car to pick them all up at the hotel and take them back to his place. Kurt climbs in with Blaine to find Brittany, Santana, Cooper and Rachel already inside. Mercedes is conspicuously absent, but then Kurt recalls the blond guy with the mouth and giggles to himself. He hopes she's having fun._ _ _

___He drinks more at Cooper’s. The wine is much better than the swill at the reception and Cooper’s stemware much nicer. He hears his friends chattering around him, but he’s feeling sort of melancholy so he goes out onto the roof and sits in the garden. Kurt has been enamoured with New York since his first visit there at the age of sixteen, and he’s pleased to find that it has never worn off. He sighs as he stares out at the thousands of lights. Cooper has the best view._ _ _

___“Kurt?” It’s Blaine’s voice; he sounds a bit timid. Kurt can see him out of the corner of his eye but he doesn’t turn his head, just keeps staring out at the lights._ _ _

___“Kurt, you should come inside. It’s cold and you’ve had a lot to drink.”_ _ _

___“Always such a worry wart, aren’t you, Angel?”_ _ _

___Blaine lets out a breath of a laugh and sits down next to Kurt on the bench. He feels warm. So warm. Kurt didn’t realize how cold he really was. Maybe he has had too much to drink._ _ _

___“Let’s get you inside. I’ll help you to one of the guest rooms, okay?”_ _ _

___Blaine tugs him up and Kurt lets him, because this is what they do. Blaine gives and Kurt takes and God, he’s really the worst friend ever. Why does Blaine even put up with him?_ _ _

___He manages to get changed on his own, though he feels groggy and sluggish and it probably takes him an age. He’s not really sure, but Blaine is still waiting for him when he comes out of the guest rooms’ en suite bath. Blaine has turned down the bedding and brought Kurt a glass of water and a painkiller for the morning. Kurt sighs happily and smiles at him and lets himself be gently lowered onto the cool sheets._ _ _

___Blaine pulls the blankets over him and makes to leave, but Kurt catches his arm. He doesn’t want to be alone, doesn’t want to be deprived of Blaine’s company or his precious body heat. Blaine, who is all sweetness and calm. “Come to bed,” Kurt says._ _ _

___Blaine makes a strange face, cloaked eyes and pinched mouth. “I, ah… that’s probably not a good idea,” he says._ _ _

___“Yes, yes it is. A good one.” Kurt tugs on Blaine with one hand and pats the bed next to him with the other. “Lie down. Right here with me.”_ _ _

___Blaine complies, sliding slowly under the blankets at Kurt’s left side. Kurt can already feel his warmth radiating over. He sighs happily again. “Sleep, Angel,” he whispers. “Just sleep. There you go.”_ _ _

He finds that he’s still shivering, so he scooches over until he’s resting against Blaine’s side and lays his head down on his shoulder. Blaine’s hand comes to rest on Kurt’s bare arm, a scalding press of flesh into flesh. 

The last thing Kurt notices is Blaine’s hand shaking against his skin and almost says, “you need another drink.” But instead he sighs and lets exhaustion wash over him completely. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Months Later…**

 

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~Sarah & Doug~_**

**_Chapel in the Pines_**

**_15165 Quigley Rd_**

**_Sycamore, Illinois_**

**_July 3rd_**

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_**

Hotel beds really are the most comfortable things. And hotel wakeup calls the most unreliable. Kurt hastily zips up the back of Rachel’s bridesmaid dress—a hideous monstrosity of vermillion taffeta and lace—and runs his fingers through her newly freed curls. 

“You’re good; you’re good. You’re gorgeous,” he says, the quickness of his speech making the compliment come off as insincere. But he doesn’t have time to worry about that now. He rushes to get his jacket, sliding the hotel room keycard into his pocket, and follows Rachel out the door. 

He can’t find anywhere to park the rental car and Rachel looks about ready to open the door and jump out whether he stops or not. Especially once she spots the limo in front of the chapel and three other women in identical dresses to hers climbing out of it, followed by the telling white shine of the bride’s gown. Kurt pulls up behind the car and lets her out, watching as she runs off to join them, her posture giving away her shame at being late. 

He has to park a good way from the chapel, but once he rushes over and lets himself silently into the building, he’s pleased to find that the ceremony has not yet begun and that Blaine has saved him a seat. 

“Late again,” Blaine whispers, shaking his head with a smirk on his face. “People will begin to think you’re doing it on purpose.” 

“Well maybe I am. Maybe my subconscious is acting out, expressing my aversion to marriage.” 

Blaine smiles a little sadly and takes Kurt’s hand, rubbing his thumb gently over the knuckles. “You haven’t always been averse,” he whispers. “It makes me sad.” 

“Join the club,” Kurt mumbles, and leans into Blaine as the music begins. 

Kurt turns to see the bridesmaids walking slowly and out of step. Rachel must notice too, because she exaggerates her own proper steps and catches Kurt’s eye as she passes him, rolling her own. He covers his mouth to keep in the laugh that wants to come out, distracted first by Derek with the dimples smiling at him from the other side of the chapel, and then by the fact that a tiny, half naked child is throwing flower petals towards him while stripping the rest of the way out of her dress. Not that he can blame her; it is made of cheap, scratchy looking lace and the entire thing makes her look as though she should be tending a flock of sheep. She manages the last bit and tugs it off completely, kicking it sideways towards a harassed looking old lady and her laughing husband. 

“This is why I never want children,” Kurt leans in to whisper to Blaine, watching who he assumes is the girl’s mother fetch the dress and attempt to make her put it back on, which leads, of course, to the little girl taking off at a run, throwing her flower basket so hard that when it hits the minister in the shins he actually lets out an “ _oof_.” 

“Oh, come on,” Blaine replies, shaking his head with a tiny smile curling his lips. “It’s funny.” 

“Future stripper,” Kurt hisses. 

Blaine giggles, covering his mouth when a man in front of them turns and glares. He leans in close to Kurt’s ear when he speaks again. “It’s just hot in here. I wish _I_ could get away with doing that.” 

“Gonna put on a show for us, Blaine?” 

Blaine’s eyes twinkle and he winks. “All you have to do is ask.” 

“Oh really? If only I had known that for the past six years. Hmm...” 

Blaine drops his head bashfully, his cheeks pink with more than just the heat. Kurt watches him for a moment, the noise in the room fading to a gentle buzz. He’s so gorgeous and sweet. Kurt can’t for the life of him figure out how he isn’t married yet. He’s always been a great supporter of marriage in general. It seems wrong somehow. 

Thankfully everyone else manages to get through the remainder of the ceremony without ripping off their clothes, and they make their way outside to greet the wedding party under the shade of some lovely old sycamore trees. 

“An old man tried to grope my ass,” Cooper breathes into Kurt’s ear when he pulls him in for a hug. He looks proud of himself, so Kurt gives him a look and a sarcastic thumbs up before moving on to congratulate the groom. God, these things are so boring and repetitive. At least Cooper was original. 

That is, of course, until he gets microphone in hand to give his best man speech. Then he does exactly what people would expect and talks about himself. 

“As many of you know, I met Doug when we were both auditioning for the same role in _Fires of Freedom_ , to play burn victim number twenty-three. Doug, unfortunately, did not take my very good advice that day, and he didn’t get the part. But as luck would have it, he did manage to land _me_ as his new best friend.” 

Blaine lets out an irritated groan from next to Kurt and Kurt snickers, leaning down to rest his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Of course he doesn’t mention that _he_ didn’t get that part either,” Blaine says under his breath and Kurt snickers again. 

“And we have had our ups and downs. Fought over a few ladies if I remember correctly, though I always won. Even on the night he met Sarah at a party thrown by our mutual friends, we had a little battle of wills over who should talk to her first. But Doug was lucky again, because my baby brother, Blaine, drank too much at that party and I had to carry him down the firescape so he didn’t get sick on Rachel’s carpet. You remember that, Blainey?” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Blaine says, glaring at his brother as Cooper grins down at him from the head table. 

“So Doug won the hand of the fair Sarah. And here they are, married! All I can say is: good luck my friends. And namaste.” 

Blaine continues to glare as Kurt claps, laughing into Blaine’s shoulder. “Stupid Cooper,” he grumbles, but he still takes a sip of his champagne with the rest of the room. 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“There is a ‘make your own cupcakes’ station, can you believe that crap? I don’t come to weddings to make cake, I come to eat cake. Honestly, it’s one of the only plusses.” 

Blaine smiles over at him and bumps their shoulders together. “Besides watching your friends pledge their love to each other, of course.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Oh God, don’t even get me started on that tonight, Angel. Something terrible will likely rain down upon us if I get going.” 

“Well why don’t we get going on that dance floor instead?” 

“That was just bad, and this is _Old Time Rock’n’Roll_. Why did this ever become a wedding reception staple? It’s terrible.” 

“It’s a classic!” Blaine says through his laughter, grabbing Kurt by the arm. 

“ _Classically_ terrible.” 

By the time they’ve dodged around people to get to the dance floor, _Old Time Rock’n’Roll_ is thankfully making a sloppy transition into another song, a slow one this time. It’s just too bad that it has to be some maudlin, depressing hit from the seventies. 

“ _Love hurts, love scars, love oohs and ahhs_ ,” Kurt sings dramatically into Blaine’s ear, pulling him close, one arm around his neck and the other at his waist. 

Blaine giggles. “Those aren’t even the right lyrics,” he says. 

“And you know this song, do you?” 

“Oh yes,” Blaine says. “I know it well.” 

“ _I know a thing or two, I learned from you, I really learned a lot, really learned a lot, love is like a flame, burns you when it’s hot_ ,” they sing together, laughing into each others necks. Blaine’s laughter dies before Kurt’s does, and Kurt smiles as he feels Blaine’s nose burrow into the soft skin behind his ear. 

“You smell good,” Blaine says in a hush. 

“How much have you had to drink, Angel?” Kurt asks, laughing. He feels more than hears Blaine’s sigh, but he doesn’t answer Kurt’s question. 

_Love Hurts_ transitions into _Forever_ and Kurt doesn’t even complain about the song or the fact that it’s Kiss, he just pulls Blaine in close and shuts his eyes against the lights and the crowd. He just sways and cuddles and lets himself breathe for a while. 

It’s nearing the end of the song when he feels an insistent tapping on his shoulder. He forces his eyes open, his brow already furrowing in anticipation of anger; he’s quite content, thank you, and doesn’t want to be disturbed. But it’s Derek, standing there grinning down at him and Kurt stops in his tracks. 

“May I cut in?” Derek asks. 

Blaine stutters over his words for a moment, and then simply nods and backs away without looking Kurt in the eye. Kurt’s gaze is still following Blaine’s back when he feels himself being drawn into Derek’s arms, a strong hand clutching one of his hips and another trailing up his back. It feels intimate, almost too intimate, and he turns to look at Derek and attempts to smile. Something feels wrong, though, and he can’t pinpoint what it is. 

“So, Kurt Hummel,” Derek says. Kurt’s smile turns real. “It has been far too long. Must we always meet this way?” 

Kurt throws back his head and laughs. “Believe me, I would much rather see you—and everyone else—outside of this particular type of occasion. Unfortunately I seem to be spending half of my weekends at them lately.” 

Derek smiles and spins Kurt around. “By the way, you didn’t mind that I cut in just now, did you? I asked your friend Rachel and she said—” 

“Oh, no, no. Blaine’s just a friend. It’s fine.” 

“Great.” Derek’s smile grows. “Rachel also informed me that you went to NYADA with the bride. I’ve known Sarah for years. It’s so sad that we haven’t run into each other until now.” 

“It really is.” Kurt presses his hand more firmly into Derek’s back and returns his smile. “And what else have you been informed about me?” 

Derek chuckles and tilts his head coyly. “Quite a lot. All good I can assure you. But second and even _third_ hand information can sometimes be untrustworthy, don’t you agree? But I must say that it _has_ made me want to get to know you rather badly, Kurt Hummel. Rather badly indeed.” 

“Well, the feeling is certainly mutual.” 

The song finishes and transitions into something uptempo. They stop moving but Derek stays close, his hands loosening their hold but not moving away entirely. “How about I get us drinks and we spend some time getting to know each other. And then we’ll see how things go,” he says, watching Kurt intently. Kurt feels a blush rising up his neck and over his cheeks from the look alone. He can’t get any words out, so he simply nods and Derek pulls away at last. 

“I’ll meet you back here,” Kurt finally manages to get out. Derek nods and heads towards the open bar and Kurt turns in the other direction to make his way to the restrooms. 

When Kurt comes out of the restroom, he finds Rachel slouched against the wall. 

“Rachel, honey, what’s wrong?” 

“Sarah said you came this way,” is all she says. Kurt can tell just by looking at her that she’s had way too much to drink. “I feel weird.” 

“Okay, Rachel. I’m gonna get you back to the hotel, okay? To bed.” 

She nods, but her head is kind of moving at a diagonal instead of up and down. “Bed sounds amazing.” 

Kurt sighs to himself; so much for seeing where things go with Derek. And he didn’t even get his number. He wraps one arm around Rachel’s waist to steady her and walks back into the party. 

Mercedes and Sam have already gone, but he stops to let Santana and Brittany know they are leaving. He sees Derek in the distance with two drinks and he shrugs at him, pointing at Rachel before moving on. He can’t seem to spot Cooper or Blaine anywhere in the crowd. Once he gets Rachel outside in the fresh air, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check if he’s received any messages from either of them, but there are none. A message from Cooper he wouldn’t expect, but it’s odd for Blaine to leave and not let his friends know so they won’t worry. Kurt doesn’t want to be so inconsiderate, knowing how Blaine does tend to worry, how he often looks after all of them, so he sends off a text letting Blaine know that Rachel isn’t feeling well and he’s taking her back to their room. 

At the hotel, Kurt shakes Rachel awake as he practically drags her towards the elevators. “I am not carrying you,” he grumbles, more to himself than to her, then rushes forward when he hears the elevator ping and the slide of the door opening. 

But of course when he gets there it’s already occupied and in a way he never wished to see. Cooper is standing in the middle of a group of women, all dressed in the ugly wedding party gowns that match the one Rachel is wearing next to him. Both of the other bridesmaids and the maid of honour are all touching and kissing him, their hands and mouths roaming while Cooper grins smugly. As the doors of the elevator slide shut on the scene, Cooper winks at Kurt and gives him a thumbs up. 

Kurt heaves a sigh. “Cooper,” he mutters, and hitches Rachel up, as she’s resting her entire weight on his side and he’s soon going to tumble over. He may not be as drunk as she is, but he has had a few himself. “I’m not carrying—” But he stops when she lets out a loud snore. “You owe me for this, Rachel Berry,” he grumbles, and lifts her up into his arms just as the second elevator door opens in front of them. This one is mercifully empty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Eight months later…**

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_  


_**~Cynthia & Wendall~**_  


_**Trinity Wall Street**_  


_**89 Broadway**_  


_**New York, New York**_  


_**December 12th**_  


_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_

_At least I can blame the traffic this time_ , he thinks, craning his neck to see around the cabbie's head and through the front windshield. They're so close to the church he's determined to get out and sprint the rest of the way if they don’t start moving again soon, just like a scene out of a classic rom com. Only at the end of the chase there won't be a schmoopy declaration of love, just the wedding of two people he barely knows. 

He hears Rachel sigh in frustration next to him and looks over to see her checking the time on her phone. "At least neither of us is in the wedding party this time," he tells her. No responsibilities. Maybe it will actually be fun. Maybe the music will be halfway decent. Maybe he can drink his weight in Flirtinis. Well, the last one is a definite at the very least. If he can rope Cooper into being his drinking partner he and Blaine can spend the night coaxing all sorts of embarrassing confessions out of him like they had at the reception of Cooper’s friend Marcy’s poodles. They’d gotten blackmail material in _droves_. The night would have been perfect if Marcy’s male poodle hadn’t decided to relieve itself all over Cooper’s leg while he was slumped outside the rented tent. Sure it had been hilarious, but that suit had been custom and there was no way the fabric would hold up against the onslaught of urine. Kurt couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for helping Cooper into such a state in the first place. Not that Cooper remembered when he awoke the next afternoon and blearily asked if he had peed himself. 

The cab starts to creep forward once again and Kurt sits back against the seat. They’ll get there when they get there, he supposes. 

Luckily they do arrive before the bridal party and Cooper has saved them seats in one of the back pews. He grins jovially up at Kurt and slides over to allow Kurt to squeeze in between himself and Blaine. Blaine looks amazing in his dark plum suit with a black and white checked bowtie, and Kurt nudges his arm and motions to his outfit, waggling his eyebrows. The tips of Blaine’s ears flush red and he drops his gaze, smiling shyly down at his own lap. Kurt leans in to whisper in his ear just as the wedding march begins to ring out through the church. “Nice choice, Mr. Anderson,” he says. 

“You, too,” Blaine mouths, and they turn in unison to watch the bridesmaids begin their slow progression down the aisle. 

The receiving line takes place right outside of the church, which is a bit of a pain seeing as there is a cold drizzle falling steadily, slowing drenching the bridesmaids flimsy maize gowns and shawls until they are practically transparent. Kurt can see the outline of the maid of honour’s bustier and thong perfectly. Cooper can too, and he turns to grin wolfishly at Kurt before leaning in to give her a hug. 

“Your brother’s a perv,” Kurt mutters to Blaine. 

“You’re just figuring that out now?” 

“I figured that out the night we met,” Santana says, popping up out of nowhere and cutting in front of Blaine in line, angrily positioning her handbag over her frizzing hair. “He told me that fake boobs were underrated and he’d like to spend some time lavishing attention on mine.” 

“Oh God,” Blaine groans. 

“Mmmhm,” Santana agrees, then plasters a fake smile on her face so she can greet the bride. 

At the reception hall, Kurt dodges for the restrooms to dry off and check the damage to his hair. He spots one of the bridesmaids in front of the hand dryer, the hot air blowing on the front of her gown. Poor thing. Hadn’t even been given a dress with a proper lining to keep such embarrassing problems from arising in the first place. 

Just as he’s given up, sighing at the lock of hair that will not stay in place but continues to curl disastrously towards his forehead no matter how much he fiddles with it, he hears a throat clearing behind him. He makes to move out of the way at the same time as he glances into the mirror. Behind his own reflection, he sees Derek standing there wearing a wide smile, his dimples as deep and endearing as Kurt remembers. 

“Well hello there, Kurt Hummel. We meet again. And I must say, those first two instances _could_ have been pure coincidence, but now that there has been a third I have to tell you—you sure do know how to wear a suit.” His eyes are roving over Kurt’s form in the mirror and if Kurt could be bothered to take his eyes off of Derek’s bright eyes, full, curving lips or, God, that head of hair, he would most certainly find that his face is as pink as the dyed hydrangea in the bride’s gaudy bouquet. 

“You don’t do so badly yourself,” Kurt tells him and turns at last, nodding appreciatively at Derek’s perfectly tailored black suit. It may not be anything out of the ordinary, but it is classic and the fit is what is most important. 

“I must have done something good to find you this early in the festivities,” Derek continues. “Maybe my luck will hold out and we’ll be seated together.” 

Kurt smiles and takes Derek’s offered arm, allowing himself to be led back into the reception hall. They make their way to the seating chart, waiting patiently behind an elderly couple before moving to the front to locate their respective seats. 

“Alas, no Kurt Hummel at my table,” Derek says sadly. Kurt follows Derek’s finger to his name. He’s sitting with Brittany and Santana. Dammit. “Oh, I’ve found you, too.” 

Derek is now pointing out the small script reading _Kurt Hummel_ at a table on the other side of the diagram. Kurt feels his face pale as he reads the names that surround his. Trevor McIntyre. Simon Knowles. Declan Murphy. James Redding. Drew Winthrop. The mime. Not the fucking mime. He stands there shaking his head, muttering under his breath until he catches Derek’s slightly worried expression and forces himself to smile. He nods vaguely as they part ways. This can’t be happening. What the hell had he ever done to Cynthia for her to do this to him? Sure when she’d first started dating Wendall he had laughed about his old man’s name, but he’d only been joking. This was serious business. 

He spots Blaine and Cooper sitting down at their table and makes a beeline for them, hoping against hope that one of them will trade seats with him. 

“Kurt, what’s wrong?” Blaine asks before he’s had a chance to even open his mouth and beg for help. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ex-boyfriends,” is all that makes its way out of Kurt’s mouth. “A whole table full. All of them. Help.” 

“What?” 

“They’ve put me at a table with—”

There is a insistent clinking on a glass from the front of the room, calling the guests to order. Cooper takes Kurt by the arm and gives him a shove in the direction of his table. The grin on his face is far too cheerful. Far too _knowing_. 

“You knew,” Kurt mutters and Cooper winks at him, giving him another push towards his own table. Bastard. Kurt gives Blaine one last pleading look before going to face his doom. 

There is some pleasant chit chat going on at the table but a hush falls over the group as Kurt approaches them. He looks at each of their faces and smiles pleasantly, holding his shaking hands tight against his legs. He can do this. It’s only dinner and a few speeches and then he can escape. It’s not like any of them know one another. He can do mindless chatter and no one will be the wiser. 

Only then Drew jumps out of his seat to pull out Kurt’s chair and makes over the top hand gestures when he motions for Kurt to sit. Kurt can hear the distinct evil of Santana’s cackle from the other side of the room and he knows she is watching. He will have to spend the party being subjected to her mime jokes no doubt. 

He turns his head and smiles at Drew and slips into his seat. Drew makes an embarrassing attempt at pushing the chair under the table with Kurt on it, but he was never very strong and Kurt outweighs him by at least thirty pounds. It will be more by the end of the night because he plans on eating his feelings and then some. Hopefully the cake is good. 

He fiddles with his utensils and napkin until a man begins speaking at the head table. He has never been so thankful for the promise of long, drawn-out and dull wedding speeches before in his life. 

And they save him from having to talk to his exes—that and his lack of eye contact—and he’s feeling much more relaxed by the time the waiters begin serving the food. Until Declan manages to catch his eye and his face pinches in the way it always does when he’s about to say something that he thinks is very clever indeed. 

“So Kurt, you look well,” he says. “Have you allowed yourself to settle down finally? Though I suppose if you had you wouldn’t be here stag, would you?” Start with flattery and then go in for the kill, his usual style. Kurt wonders if all therapists are taught this method in school. 

How dare he? _Allowed_ himself. Like he’s been dating ridiculous men for years on purpose or something. What reason could he possibly have for self-sabotage? He wants to let it go, to nod and smile and pretend it hadn’t gotten to him, but as soon as he opens his mouth it tumbles out. “ _Allowed_?” 

Declan’s smile broadens, his pointy eyebrows growing extra points. God, what was he thinking, dating a man with such devilish eyebrows? He looks like he could star in a horror film as Satan. 

James puts his glass down across the table and winks at Kurt before turning to Declan. “Oh come now, maybe Kurt just hasn’t found the right guy yet. I mean, he and I didn’t date for all that long, and he may have some serious trust issues, but it’s not like he can help it. I would have trust issues too if my previous boyfriend had written me into his novel as the villain of the piece.”

 _Oh my God, oh my God_. Kurt picks up his water glass and takes a swig, looking anywhere but to his immediate left where he can feel Simon’s eyes boring into him. 

“I have stated repeatedly that the character was not modelled after Kurt. Just because he had a similar name and affectations does not make him Kurt.” 

Kurt wants to sink into the floor. Maybe if he asks nicely Declan will open the door to hell and Kurt can disappear into it for the remainder of the reception. Luckily his prayers are answered, not by the floor opening to swallow him, but by a surly looking waiter bringing a tray of dinner plates over to serve them. 

As soon as Kurt is given his plate he begins to shovel food into his mouth, barely aware of what he is eating. And Drew, bless him, laughs nervously from Kurt’s right and tries to help the situation. God, he really is a sweet thing. But stupid, too. So stupid. 

“So you guys dated Kurt too, huh? That’s such a coincidence. He’s such a great guy; he tells the best stories.” Drew pauses for a moment to take a drink and Kurt breathes a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad. But unfortunately, he isn’t finished. He grins to himself before opening his mouth again and Kurt nearly groans. “Are any of you the botanist who took Kurt hiking and ended up with poison ivy? Oh my God, I love that story. How could a botanist not know what poison ivy looks like? Even I know that, and I’m a professional mime!” 

A previously quiet Trevor perks up from Drew’s other side. “That would be me,” he says, and Drew pulls a face, looking over at Kurt in apology. Kurt sighs and shrugs at him. He didn’t mean to cause more trouble. Sweet idiot. Kurt looks over at Trevor so he can be properly chewed out. May as well get it over with. “And it wasn’t my fault. The plant was deformed due to the pollution in the river and didn’t look as it should have. I was trying to study it, as I explained to Kurt.” 

“I’m sorry, Trevor. I must have forgotten to tell Drew that part.”

“What about the bit where his mother used to stare at your crotch whenever you were in the same room as her?” Declan asks, his demon brows lifted in amusement. 

Trevor’s mouth falls open in shock and he drops his forkful of salad back onto his plate. “She’s just really short!” 

James starts to laugh and tries turning it into a cough while Simon mutters under his breath and rolls his eyes. Kurt focuses back on his dinner and slides his chair infinitesimally closer to Drew. He seems the least bitter of the bunch and it feels safest. 

He’s chugged so much champagne during dinner that when he makes his escape he feels a little bit like he’s floating. Santana is the one who catches him, and then brings him back to Earth in an utterly horrible way. 

“I saw you cozying up to your little mime to get away from the big baddies you used to date. He may be less scary but you did once tell me that he was terrible in bed.” 

Kurt tries to get away from her, but she’s steering him towards their other friends: Cooper, Blaine, Rachel, Brittany, Mercedes and Sam are all cloistered together in a far corner of the room amongst some plush looking couches and loveseats. 

“Did he used to pretend there was a box around your dick when he didn't feel like going downtown? And he'd, like, lean forward with his mouth open, but his forehead would hit against the invisible walls. So he'd just shrug and be like: I would if I could. Nothing I can do.” Kurt flushes and pulls his arm out of her clutches just as she begins acting out the scenario she just described. 

“Yeah, sure, kick me when I’m down. Continue to mock my terrible taste in men. Honestly, all I need is for Tristan to show up and the circle of hell will be complete.”

“Kurt?” 

Kurt turns abruptly when he hears his name spoken in the deep, honeyed Charleston drawl that he’d grown used to months before. And then grown to dread. Why did the cute, southern doctors have to be so damn clingy? 

“Hi, Tristan,” he says hesitantly. His smile even comes hesitantly to his mouth, though that could be the alcohol slowing down his muscles’ reaction time. 

“Oh, _Kurt_ ,” Tristan says, and then bursts into tears, burying his face in Kurt’s neck. 

Kurt pats his back soothingly as he ushers him away to someplace more private. He can see his friends laughing at him as he goes and gives them the finger from behind Tristan’s back. 

“Tristan, Tristan come on,” Kurt implores as Tristan takes a gulp of air and lets it out in an embarrassingly loud sob. “I thought we were in a good place, you and me.” 

“I just—I miss you, Kurt. I thought that we were— I’ve been so depressed I’ve lost muscle mass. My abs are turning to flabs. I just ate an entire slice of cake! Cake, Kurt!” Tristan pulls himself away from Kurt and wipes a shaking hand over his eyes. Kurt has always been one for drama, but God, does Tristan go overboard. It’s been ages since they broke up. And cake is the best thing ever. 

“Tristan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, you know that, right?” Kurt tries to smooth his expression, make his eyes look just soft enough to express regret, but not so much regret that Tristan might think there is a chance for a reconciliation. They have already been down that windy road. 

“I guess it could never have worked anyway,” Tristan says finally, taking another deep breath and crossing his arms protectively over his chest. “Your little incestuous group of friends all hate me.”

“My friends don't hate—”

“Santana calls me _The Golden Pony_.”

“I, ah... I've never heard her, um—” Oh God. Sometimes he hates Santana. He supposes she probably said it right in front of him. 

Tristan turns back to look into Kurt’s face and drops his arms from their protective stance only to reach out and grab both of Kurt’s hands. "Honestly Kurt, I never even cared because I loved you more than your friends annoyed me. And I thought you loved me, too. I really thought you would propose, but all you wanted was a reason to end things. At first I thought it was because of him, but I don't even know anymore." He lets go of Kurt’s hands and turns away again. 

"You thought it was because of _who_?"

There is squeal of feedback from a microphone up front by the DJ and Kurt looks away from Tristan's curled shoulders towards the sound. When he looks back, ears still ringing, Tristan is leaving, has already used the advantage of his long legs to get away. Kurt sighs. It's not that he isn't relieved to be rid of him—though he feels a twinge of guilt at that relief—it's just that he didn't understand half of what he'd been talking about and the wondering is sure to annoy him. He can't help but be intrigued as to which one of Kurt's exes Tristan had mistakenly thought Kurt could still be attached to.

The MC announces the bride and groom's first dance and Kurt wanders back over to find his friends.

"What the hell did The Golden Pony want?" Santana asks as soon as he's in ear shot.

"To weep all over my Vivienne Westwood suit and then run off apparently."

Rachel hums in sympathy and hands him a drink.

"Kurt, with the string of guys you have dated and dumped there was bound to be a crazy one in the bunch," Mercedes says. "At least he's not a violent stalker."

"Just a hot blond doctor with overly large front teeth and very healthy tear ducts," Santana adds with a shrug.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Thanks for the—whatever that was, girls. You're great friends."

"We're all looking out for you, buddy," Cooper says with a wink and gets up from where he's seated next to Blaine on a loveseat. He pats Kurt on the arm. "We have to stick together, all of us. But you know, as proud as I've always been that we're all unattached—" He looks over when Mercedes and Sam begin to protest and holds up a hand. "I meant _married_. But now... I'd kinda like to go to a wedding where the people getting hitched are people who I actually really, really loved for a change. Wouldn't you? I want to care more. I want to be _moved_ —maybe even to tears. Move me, friends! Go forth and seek out future spouses, I implore you!"

As Kurt shakes his head at Cooper's idiocy, he catches Blaine's eye. Blaine smiles a little and shrugs. His eyes are glassy and soft and he's sitting in a completely boneless way, which is rare. Kurt can tell that he's drunk. Utterly smashed.

"Santana and I already got married, Cooper," Brittany says, curling a lock of hair around her bare ring finger. 

"Traitors in our midst!" Cooper claps his hands and points at both Brittany and Santana in turn. "Why was I not invited?"

Santana takes Brittany's hand. "That wasn't a real wedding, Britt. Remember? That Elvis impersonator didn't have a marriage licence and we were both drunk."

"Right. And stuff in Vegas stays in Vegas. So I guess we're only married in Vegas."

"We are going to get married for real though. Eventually," Santana says.

Cooper grins at them. "So that's four down." He looks over at Kurt, Blaine, and finally to Rachel. "Now it's your turn."

Rachel winks at him and struts away, seeming to accept his challenge. She never was one to ignore such an obvious dare. The two couples follow after her, headed to the dance floor, and Kurt falls into Cooper's vacated seat next to Blaine just as Cooper is accosted by a randy looking bridesmaid.

"Alone at last, Angel," Kurt says. Blaine giggles drunkenly and takes a sip of his beer. "The only sane men."

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

“What, that we’re alone?” Kurt glances around at the wedding guests. No one is paying them any mind. 

“That we’re sane.” 

“Ah, yes. There is that.” Kurt reaches over and eases Blaine’s glass from his hand and takes a drink, pulling a face at the bitter flavour of the beer. 

“You could get your own if you don’t like it,” Blaine tells him, smiling as Kurt takes another drink and makes another face. 

“Nah,” Kurt says, leaning his head down to rest on Blaine’s shoulder. “Yours is always better.”

“And less work.” 

Kurt hums his agreement and taps a finger on Blaine’s leg. “So, any idea who you’re gonna pair up with to appease your ridiculous brother?” 

He feels the motion of Blaine’s body as he huffs. “Nah, I’m not up to appeasing Coop…” He lets his words trail off and Kurt yawns, looking around at the many couples dancing awkwardly and off beat. “Actually,” Blaine adds a while later, after Kurt had thought their conversation over, “I’ve been in love with the same guy for ages, but it’s hopeless, so… I’ll just carry on by myself.” 

Kurt perks up. He considers himself to be Blaine’s best friend and he’s never heard any such thing. “Ooh, do tell.” 

Blaine sighs before huffing again. It’s silent for a long moment and Kurt begins to zone out. There is a speaker to his right and he can feel the base vibrating in his stomach. He hears far-off laughter that sounds like Rachel and shakes his head with a grin, tapping his finger on Blaine’s leg again, this time to the beat of the song. Blaine is still watching him, still looks like he has something to say. Kurt raises his eyebrows and smiles, and Blaine nods to himself and licks his lips before opening his mouth. “It’s you, Kurt.” he says, his voice quiet. So quiet and delicate and almost fearful. “It’s always been you.” 

Kurt’s mind races along with his pulse. He sits up straight on the loveseat and turns to face Blaine completely. It takes him three tries before he’s able to speak, Blaine’s wide eyes regarding Kurt like he could break him with the wrong words and that’s too much—how can Kurt possibly get this right with all the pressure he feels from that gaze alone? Blaine is his best friend. The dearest, most precious thing in his life and he could be seconds away from ruining everything forever and he can’t _talk_. 

“Oh, Blaine,” is what he finally manages. Blaine’s eyes slip closed and Kurt curses himself. He sounded pitying. He hadn’t meant to. That’s not what he— “How long have you felt this way?”

“How long have we known each other?” Blaine’s voice is louder now, with a touch of bitterness at its edges. His eyes remain closed, his mouth twisting up at one corner. Kurt doesn’t know what to say so instead he reaches out and runs his fingers around the back of Blaine’s head and plays with the short, soft hairs there. Blaine turns into the touch, his face tense like he’s warring with himself. 

“You call all of us—all of your friends—honey and sweetie and all sorts of pet names but I’m the only one who you call—”

“Angel.”

Blaine’s eyes pop back open and he watches Kurt, still allowing himself to be stroked, still looking half okay with it and half like he shouldn’t let himself be. Kurt should probably pull his hand away but he can’t make himself. The urge, the instinct to nurture and fix is too strong. He needs the contact and he is a selfish being. 

“Why? Why do you call me that, Kurt?”

Kurt shakes his head. It’s always just been— He doesn’t even know when he started it. “It makes me— It gives me—” He shakes his head again. “I don’t know. Because you’re—”

Blaine sits up, no longer boneless, and Kurt’s hand falls away. “Because I’m what?” 

“Because you’re… _Blaine_.” 

“And what does that even mean?”

Kurt wants to be able to explain, God he wants it so much, but he doesn’t think he can. Not right now. Not without some thought. They’re in the corner of a crowded room and he’s a little bit drunk and Blaine is just—Blaine is his _best friend_. “I don’t know.”

Blaine huffs again, his sweet eyes turning steely. He nods to himself and rises from the loveseat, using the armrest as leverage. 

Kurt doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that Blaine can’t walk away. Blaine can’t leave without everything being all right between them and Kurt still hasn’t even begun to process, let alone understand what is going on. 

“Blaine, no, please—” He reaches out for Blaine’s arm, but he dodges the touch. “We should go together. We can talk about this.”

Blaine shakes his head. He won’t meet Kurt’s eyes. “Why would you want to waste your time doing that? That slutty guy you can’t stop talking about is around here somewhere. You don’t even know the guy but you wouldn’t hesitate to— He’s a much better use of your time. Third time’s a charm, right?”

“Blaine, don’t. That’s not true. Please don’t—” Kurt is standing now, but Blaine still won’t look at him. And he does exactly what Kurt was dreading: he walks away. 

Kurt lets himself drop back into the loveseat once he’s gone. He sees him tap Cooper on the shoulder and watches them leave together. He feels frozen, like he’s in shock, his eyes slowly glazing over. With Blaine gone, nothing in the room matters to him anymore. Not now. Not tonight. Not after that. 

He has no sense of time; he notices the transitions as songs blend into one another, but he can’t judge the passage of time by that either. It’s only on the periphery of his senses, not sinking in. He smells a spicy, familiar perfume as the seat bounces him around, someone settling in next to him. 

“I hurt people,” he says. 

He hears a sigh and feels Santana’s hand rub roughly over his upper arm. She’d probably meant it to be soothing, but her bedside manner could use some work. 

“I should just marry Tristan and be miserable for the rest of my life.” 

“Jesus, Hummel, no one deserves _that_. What brought all this on?” 

“I’m a complete asshole.” 

“That’s news?” 

It strikes him then that he doesn't actually have to stick around. He's not even close with Cynthia and Wendall and they certainly won't miss him if he leaves. He can slip away and stare at his own walls and figure out a way to fix this. He can try to sort out the jumble of thoughts and emotions tumbling and mixing together in his head. He can be in the quiet and maybe decipher his own confused feelings. And more importantly, he can try to talk to Blaine. He needs to. Desperately. 

"I'm going home," he says. 

Santana grasps his hand. "Hey, you can talk to me. I was only kidding."

He nods vaguely and tries to take his hand back in a way that doesn't seem like snatching. "It's fine. I'll, um... See you later."

He doesn't hear her respond if she even does, just leaves his perch and floats out of the party, confident that Santana will let the others know that he's gone. 

In the cab home he replays the night in his head, and for the first time he realizes that Tristan may very well have been talking about Blaine. He knows how he's been with Blaine over the years. It had come naturally to him, to them. He hadn't known he was doing any harm. He hadn't known that his every word and touch and ounce of affection was hurting one of the people he loves most in the world. 

At his apartment he sits and thinks and thinks. When the stabbing aloneness he feels at the missing presence next to him becomes too much to bear, he picks up his phone and sends a text. 

_Rachel isn't home. Please come & talk to me_. 

He waits for fifteen minutes but gets no reply. He grabs his phone again, this time telling himself to stop taking the easy way out. He hits call. 

The answering machine picks up right away; Blaine's upbeat voice asking him to leave a message. His call has been ignored. He leaves a message anyway, pretends not to realize. 

_"I'm home, um...Rachel's not here and—Or I can come to you? But maybe you're asleep. But if you're not, just... Please come, Ang—Blaine. Please come over so we can talk. I need—_ " He's cut off by a beep, and then a recording asks him if he wants to leave a new message. He shakes his head at the phone and disconnects.


	4. Chapter 4

**Two months later…**

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_**  
 ** _~Mercedes & Sam~_**

**_Cornerstone Harvest Church_ **

**_2000 N Cole Street_**

**_Lima,Ohio_**

**_February 14th_**

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

 

"Oh my God, my alarm didn't go off!" Kurt exclaims, rushing into the kitchen with his suit jacket half on and his tie hanging loose around his neck.

Burt looks up from behind his newspaper. "I turned it off," he says, before looking back down at the paper. "Mercedes called to say she was cancelling her little breakfast get together ‘cause she's running behind schedule herself, so I figured I'd let you sleep in. You looked like you could use it."

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he does feel relieved. He's not really in the mood for chit chat with Mercedes' friends and family this morning. He loves her—loves them all—but his dad is right. He's exhausted. He's stressed. He's having a rough time of it all around lately.

He lowers himself onto the stool next to his father's and Burt gets up to fix him a cup of coffee. “Seriously though, Dad, you do realize what sort of horrible things would befall me if I was late for Mercedes’ wedding, right? For one, she would kill me. She’s already threatened. Multiple times.” 

Burt chuckles and plunks a coffee down in front of him. Kurt watches as it sloshes around inside the mug, nearly spilling over the top on one side before settling down. “I was gonna come wake you in a few minutes. I’d never let you sleep too late, kiddo. Not late enough to be killed anyway. Maybe a little maimed, but you’d be all right.” 

“Ha ha. Thanks a lot.” He gives the still chucking Burt a mock glare and takes a sip of his coffee. It’s a little on the bitter side, but Burt never really did understand the whole sugar-in-coffee thing. 

“But I do gotta ask you, Kurt, is there somethin’ you maybe wanna talk about? You wanna tell your old man what’s been goin’ on with you lately?” Kurt looks up from letting the steam waft soothingly over his face to see his father put his hands up, palms forward and shake his head slightly from side to side, as though he’s seconds away from being attacked. “Look, I know you’re an adult and it’s your business, but I been real worried about you, Kurt. You seem… I dunno, kinda sad, is all.” 

Kurt sighs and picks up his mug, taking another drink mostly for something to do with his hands. He pulls a face as the bitter coffee slides over his tongue and opens his eyes to look at his dad. And he does look worried—his eyes are soft and his mouth turned down. Kurt could tell him. He could blurt it all out and cry rivers of tears and have his dad pat his back and hug him and say things like “it’ll be okay” and “if he doesn’t want ya then he’s a fool.” But Kurt doesn’t want those things, at least not yet. That would mean that everything is hopeless. That everything is over. He can’t give up on what hope he has. Not yet. 

“I have been,” he admits, watching his father carefully. “And tonight, after the wedding, I might have to take you up on that offer for a talk, Dad. And as forewarning—if I do, it isn’t going to be pretty.” 

Burt nods and smiles crookedly. “Don’t worry, Carole’s got some of that ice cream you like hidden away in the freezer.” 

Kurt lets out a laugh and it’s like sunshine after weeks of nothing but rain.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He feels like he’s sneaking when he enters the church. He had stopped to give Mercedes a kiss for good luck and congratulate her on putting together the wedding so quickly—and even with impeccable bridesmaids’ gowns—but he knew he was mostly stalling for time. He hasn’t spoken to or seen Blaine in weeks and he doesn’t know what he is going to say to him when they finally come face to face. 

But it turns out that his worry is somewhat premature, because his group of friends aren’t even seated together, but scattered amongst the wooden pews. He can see Rachel and her date near the front—her leading man in a new show she is in rehearsals for whom she has been dating in secret, which she thinks is very exciting and scandalous—and Santana with Brittany at the back. Kurt scoots in next to Santana, trying and failing not to search for Blaine’s sleek hair. He spots him several rows towards the front next to Cooper. His shoulders and back look tense and Kurt wonders if he saw Kurt enter the church, if that tension is all because of him. He lets out a breath and stares at Blaine’s shoulders, the back of his head, hoping to see that tension ease. It doesn’t. Kurt forces himself to look away when the music begins and the bridal party starts walking down the aisle. 

During the ceremony, one of Mercedes’ uncles gets up to speak. At first Kurt is paying little attention, until he catches the words “ _friendship is the solid base on which love grows and blossoms_.” His eyes zero in on Blaine’s still rigid back as Mr. Jones speaks of the quiet, comforting familiarity of true love and how it is worth every ounce of work and every cross that must be beared. It’s beautiful, unequivocally, and it rings so true that Kurt has tears in his eyes by the time the man folds up his paper, steps down and goes back to his seat. 

"What's the matter with you?” Santana asks in a hush, handing over a tissue. “You look like someone just told you that they’ve ceased publication of French _Vogue_."

Kurt takes the tissue and dabs at his eyes. He could lie, but he’s too tired, so he cuts to the chase. "I'm in love with Blaine."

"Uh, no shit, gay Sherlock. You two have been dancing around each other for what, six years? It was only a matter of time before you exhausted yourself. It was a marathon you were never gonna win. Tell him yet?"

Kurt shakes his head. He’s terrified suddenly; he feels frozen in place. "What if he doesn't feel the same anymore? What if he tells me to screw off? I would deserve it."

"He's more likely gonna tell you to screw _him_. Hard for several sweaty hours. Are you seriously that blind? Boy has had a stiffy for you since the day you met. Just invite him to his own hotel room and take off your pants. He'll drop to his knees before you can say 'it's not gonna suck itself'."

"Don't talk about him like that," Kurt snaps, his voice rising above his previous whisper. 

A wide smile spreads slowly across Santana’s face. "Good boy," she says. "Just speak from your heart and all that crap. _Then_ you can make with the sex. Though you two will probably be one of those disgusting couples who call it 'making love.’ So have fun with that."

Kurt stares at her for a moment, thinking that she and Britt call sex "lady time" so she's hardly one to judge, but he decides he can't be bothered to tell her so, not when opening his mouth makes his teeth clack together with nerves. Instead he shakes his head and turns his gaze back on Blaine. Santana had seemed so sure. Kurt wishes he had a fraction of her surety, then perhaps he wouldn’t feel so shaky and sick to his stomach. He watches as Cooper throws an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and Blaine seems to relax, leaning into his brother. Kurt breathes a sigh of relief. He’s felt the need to make his way to their pew since spotting Blaine’s tense posture. Now he lets himself sink back and watch his friends say their vows without the terrible guilt making his eyes lose focus and his brain concentrate on little else. 

He hangs back when everyone begins greeting the wedding party, waiting until the very end to offer his congratulations. He tells Mercedes how perfect the ceremony had been, but she grabs hold of him when he attempts to quickly scamper off. 

She runs her fingers through the back of his hair, scritching slightly the way he likes and he tilts his head. “You know I wanted you in the wedding party, right? It’s just traditional in my family for the female cousins to be asked.”

Kurt shakes his head at her and tries to smile. He hadn’t even thought about that. Well, maybe only once when she’d announced that she and Sam were getting married two months before. “I know, honey—I’m not upset.” 

She winks. “Okay. But just so you know, this doesn’t mean I don’t expect to be in yours when you get hitched.” 

Kurt huffs a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“That’s my boy.” The look she gives him is much more interested than her laissez-faire stance would like him to believe, but he doesn’t mention anything, just disentangles himself and moves on to congratulate Sam. Mercedes pulls him back in after he’s given Sam a hug, however, and gets up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. 

“I want you smiling at my wedding, Kurt, so you do what you gotta do, okay?” 

He nods and she winks at him again before reaching up and pinching his cheek. 

Dinner is a blur. Mercedes sat him with his dad and Carole, as well as Rachel and her leading man, Jesse St. James, who hogs the conversation, mostly talking about himself, and then about Rachel’s genius, followed by another thrilling tale about himself. Kurt would usually be annoyed by behaviour of that kind, but he’s thankful for the reprieve. Instead he tunes Jesse out and plans what he needs to say and tries not to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of Blaine. 

He avoids the crowd when Mercedes throws her bouquet. 

He does find that he can’t hold in a laugh, however, when he spots Sam’s grandma, Tessa up at the front, poised and ready. She had informed Kurt while they waited together for the receiving line to die down that she was on the prowl for a man tonight. Apparently being a widow gets old after twenty-five years. Kurt has been mostly alone for longer than that now and he gets Grandma Tessa’s plight. He really does. 

She blocks the younger women when the flowers fly, knocking Sam’s sister and Rachel out of the way and sliding onto the floor on her belly. Kurt hears Sam’s father gasp, “Mom!” as he rushes forward, only to stop in his tracks when she comes up with the bouquet clasped proudly in one hand. She lifts it into the air and whoops before fixing her rumpled dress and strutting away. 

Kurt finds himself smiling widely as he cheers her on. And it doesn’t even make his face feel like it’s cracking. 

Cooper was not present for the bouquet toss, it would seem, because after catching the garter belt he is blindfolded and seems excited as he’s led to Grandma Tessa, who is reclining saucily in a chair, waiting for him. There is no way he can possibly know it’s her, because as he’s sliding the garter belt up her leg, he lets his fingers trail over her skin. And when he hears laughter and catcalls from the crowd, well, he hams it up to three hundred percent. 

“I just love your perfume,” he says with a charming smile. “Is that baby powder?” 

Kurt snorts into his hand and looks across the room, catching Blaine’s eye. He was mid-laugh and looked so carefree and beautiful, but it all falls apart when he looks back at Kurt. And Kurt thinks, just for a moment, that maybe he should just leave Blaine alone. Maybe Blaine would be better off if Kurt doesn’t do what he’s been nervously planning all night and accost Blaine and make him listen. Maybe Blaine doesn’t want to listen. But then Blaine looks down sadly and back up, and he smiles. It’s not his old smile, or the carefree one of moments before, but it’s a smile. It’s Blaine trying. It’s Blaine saying that he still wants Kurt in his life. It’s Blaine saying that Kurt hasn’t been disowned, not forever. And Kurt thinks he can see it, see the love still lurking there from across the room and it gives him a renewed sense of hope. 

He laughs with the rest of the room when Grandma Tessa rips off Cooper’s blindfold and kisses him square on the mouth, and he feels a small measure of weight lift off of his heart. 

Kurt spends the next hour trying to decide how he should approach Blaine. It takes a conspiratorial wink from Mercedes and Grandma Tessa walking past simultaneously, muttering “ _happy hunting_ ” under her breath, before he gives in. Heart pounding in his chest, he slowly walks over to where Blaine is dancing to _And Then He Kissed Me_ with Mercedes’ five year old niece, swinging her around as she giggles and chants, “higher, higher.” 

Kurt laughs when Blaine sets her back on her feet and they break into a matching little shimmy and spin combo. Blaine looks up at the sound. He seems hesitant, but his expression is open and Kurt takes that as a positive sign. 

“May I have the next dance?” 

Blaine nods, still hesitant, and Mercedes’ niece giggles and takes off at a run towards her mother. Kurt stares after her for a moment before looking back at Blaine. They stand awkwardly until they hear the opening strains of _Come Away With Me_ fill the room. In a few steps, they come together, Blaine sliding one arm around Kurt’s waist and the other around his back. His hands feel big and warm and right where they are. Kurt lets his eyes drift closed and pulls Blaine in as closely as he can, clutching his shoulders. 

“I miss you,” he whispers into Blaine’s ear. 

He can hear Blaine swallow, feel his deep breath warm on the side of his neck. “I miss you, too.” Blaine’s voice sounds flat, hollow—hopeless. “I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m trying to get over—”

“Please don’t.” 

“That’s not fair—” Blaine pulls back, but Kurt hardens his grip. 

“Wait, please. Let me—” Kurt looks pleadingly into Blaine’s eyes. “If after I’ve said my piece you still want me to leave you alone, then I will.” Kurt’s voice cracks on the last word, but he nods in determination, even as his eyes fill with moisture at the very thought of being without Blaine for another long stretch. Maybe even forever. Blaine’s eyes look wet as he nods in return. Kurt pulls him back into his embrace before he can see any tears fall. He doesn’t think he can withstand that; he will crack for sure. 

He decides to begin by answering a question that he couldn’t two months before. A question that has been at the forefront of his mind ever since. He closes his eyes again and leans his head down on Blaine’s shoulder so he can speak quietly in his ear. They have stopped dancing, are standing still as the song and other couples continue on beside them. Kurt starts moving his body again, leading Blaine’s along and twirling them farther away from the other dancers. He takes a deep breath, his hands shaking against Blaine’s body. 

“I call you Angel because that’s what you’ve always been to me: an angel. I can’t even tell you how far and above everyone else you are in my eyes, Blaine, I—You’re perfect.”

“I’m not, Kurt,” Blaine whispers back. 

“You are to me.”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s just that—I honestly never considered—never thought there was a possibility of something happening between us. Nobody could deserve you, least of all me. But maybe I didn’t _let_ myself consider it, because deep down I was afraid that if something bad happened and I lost you forever... I just couldn’t take that chance. I don’t even want to imagine my life without you in it, Blaine. It’s terrifying, to say the least. But maybe if I _had_ let myself examine those feelings instead of hiding them away, I would’ve realized—” Kurt shakes his head and blinks back the tears that are still threatening to fall. 

“Since we've been apart there's this big, empty, hollow ache inside me. You fit there, Blaine. You've always been there and I was too stupid to realize that _that_ is what love is. It's like what Mercedes’ uncle was saying at the ceremony and I—I didn't get that before, but I do now. And God, Angel, I am so in love with you. 

“And I know—I know I can never come close to deserving you, but that didn’t stop me from falling for you the moment you asked me for directions to the dance studio at NYADA, and it doesn’t stop me from being in love with you now.” 

Kurt stops abruptly after his declaration. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding like a drum in his chest; he’s sure that Blaine can feel it beating against him as they hold each other. Blaine is silent but still hanging on, still dancing slowly. Kurt is about to speak up again, about to beg for a response when Blaine breathes out and finally answers. 

“I love you, too.”

“Still?”

“Always.” 

Kurt’s breath shakes as he exhales and he can feel months worth of pain and tension and trepidation float away like flower petals on the wind. He leans back, Blaine’s strong hands tightening their grip on his back and waist. 

He looks down into Blaine’s face and smiles, his hand weaving its way from Blaine’s shoulder to his face, fingertips stroking from barely stubbled jaw to cheekbone, around one eye and straight down to the tip of his nose. 

“Are you sure?” Blaine sounds breathless, his eyes quickly flitting from Kurt’s own eyes, down to his mouth, and back up again. 

Kurt tilts his head and his smile grows. “Oh, I am _definitely_ sure. I’ve been thinking of nothing else for the past two months. And I mean that literally—I almost got fired.” 

Blaine squeaks out a wet-sounding laugh and they lunge forward at the same time, their mouths knocking together, first with teeth, and then lips and soft tongues. 

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” Kurt hears someone exclaim loudly from his left. 

“Was that Cooper?”

Blaine groans and buries his face in the side of Kurt’s neck. “He’s been trying to ‘ _work his magic_ ’ on us for ages, he—I’m so sorry.” 

“What did this magic entail, exactly?”

“Um, well, lots of things ranging from the embarrassing to the terrible. Just—let’s forget about Cooper. At least for tonight.” Kurt takes pity on Blaine and his pleading expression, though he isn’t giving up the topic entirely. A thought is taking shape in his mind that he can’t seem to put paid to. At Cynthia’s wedding Cooper had already known about the seating chart, and Cynthia is Cooper’s friend, it would have been easy for him to convince her—

But then Blaine’s lips are sliding softly over the shell of Kurt’s ear and he can’t really give a damn about Cooper or his clandestine plans. Or the fact that he’s now singing _It’s Raining Men_ obnoxiously loudly and directly at them, and why are they slow dancing to _It’s Raining Men_? Why is it even playing? Mercedes needs to have words with her DJ. 

* * *

“We should slip away so we can talk some more,” he suggests, pulling Blaine minutely towards the nearest exit without disturbing their embrace. 

“ _Talk_. Uh huh. Sure.”

“Blaine Anderson! Are you doubting my sincerity?”

“No. But I am doubting my ability to keep my hands off of you now that I’m allowed to touch.” And he demonstrates said new permission by slipping his hand down to clutch Kurt’s hip as he continues to nuzzle his ear and downwards to his neck. 

“Oh, _God_. Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“Who, Mercedes and Sam? I don’t know, what do you think?” 

Kurt groans at the loss of Blaine’s body when he leans back, but he does follow where he’s looking. Mercedes and Sam are dancing in the centre of the room, the colourful lights sparkling off of the jewels on Mercedes’ dress. Their foreheads are pressed together, their eyes closed, their hands clasped over their hearts. 

“They look blissful,” Kurt says in a hush. 

He can feel Blaine nod against him. “Do you want that?”

Kurt turns away from his friends and looks at Blaine’s searching gaze. “Yeah.” He lifts a hand to Blaine’s face, swipes his thumb over Blaine’s cheekbone and under his eye. Blaine blinks, his eyelashes tickling like butterfly’s wings against the skin of Kurt’s thumb. “Let’s go, my Angel.” 

Blaine nods and turns to press his lips against Kurt’s hand. “Okay.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They kick off their shoes and shuck off their jackets the moment they enter Blaine’s hotel room, ties and shirts following soon after. Blaine is working down the zipper of Kurt’s pants when Kurt hesitates, mouth still sucking at the side of Blaine’s neck. 

“Maybe we should wait.” 

“What?” Blaine backs away slightly, eyes wide with worry. “Why? Are you not sure about…?” 

“No. No, of course I’m sure, Angel.” He pulls Blaine back against his body and kisses him on the cheek. He feels shy all of a sudden, a little silly for what he’s thinking. They aren’t kids anymore. But it’s Blaine, and Kurt is sure he will understand. “It’s just that, well, this is it for me. You know, _us_. And I thought that it should be special, that we should make it really special. The last first time.” Blaine is quiet and still and Kurt begins to feel stupid again. “Okay, maybe it’s silly, I just—” 

Blaine raises his head, eyes shining and sweet smile turning up his lips. He shakes his head gently back and forth. “It’s not silly,” he says, and leans forward to press their lips together. 

It takes about twenty minutes of them rutting against each other, pants sliding down around their sweaty thighs, for Kurt to break his resolve. 

“Okay so maybe we shouldn’t wait. I mean—our friends just got married and we’re brand new boyfriends. This is already pretty special.” 

Blaine huffs a laugh, licking a strip up Kurt’s chest, and noses at a peaked nipple. “You’re only saying that now because your dick is telling you to,” he says, then lays the flat of his tongue over the nipple and laves at it. Kurt moans loudly and bucks his hips. 

“But my dick is smart. We should listen to my dick.” 

Blaine laughs again. “How about this—We take off our pants so we have better freedom of movement and both of our dicks will be happy.” 

“Okay, deal.” 

Their pants and socks join the rest of their clothes on the hotel room carpet. 

Blaine cracks ten minutes later. 

“Um, so, I think you were right before. This night is already special. So special. I mean, to me it is.” 

“Okay, how about we lose the underwear and we can—” Kurt makes a motion with his hand, turning it back and forth. “Just no penetration.” He watches Blaine who is licking his lips and looks like he’s trying to stare a hole through the crotch of Kurt’s boxer briefs. “Of any kind.” He’s probably going to regret that. Blaine looks up and nods, and they shimmy hurriedly out of their underwear. 

Blaine straddles Kurt’s hips, wrapping both of his hands around their cocks and stroking them back and forth and together and Kurt gasps, thrusting up as much as he can with Blaine’s weight holding him to the mattress. 

“God, wanna ride you like this,” Blaine says, and Kurt curses. Blaine’s hands have slowed down and he needs more, needs to come after Blaine saying that and God, now it’s all he can think about. But even if he hadn’t made that _no penetration_ rule, they still don’t have any lube or condoms and this hotel is far too nice to have either of them in the bathroom. Not that it matters, because there is a rule and it is not amendable. 

He reaches up and helps Blaine along, wrapping his hands around Blaine’s, all four of their hands pressing their stiff cocks together and jerking them back and forth. 

“ _Ah ah_ , Kurt!” Blaine drops his hands and scoots backwards, chest and shoulders moving with his heavy breaths. 

“Blaine, what's wrong? Why are you stopping?” 

“I was about to come.” He runs a hand over his face, his panting breaths easing up a little. 

“Isn't that kind of the point?” 

“I just don't want this to be over yet.” 

“We've been fooling around for over an hour. I don't know about you, but my balls are starting to ache.” Blaine laughs, his head drooping down. “Come here.” Kurt reaches out and Blaine falls down on the bed next to him. He runs his fingers through Blaine's sweaty hair, the small tendrils escaping the product to curl over his temples and onto his forehead. 

“And you know,” Kurt says, “it won't be over. Not really. We can just start again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. You get where I'm going with this…” 

He can feel Blaine’s smile against his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess I do.” 

“Well, okay then. You can come whenever you’re ready, Angel.” And then Kurt pushes Blaine onto his back and rolls over on top of him. 

“Mmm, so smart,” Blaine answers with a gasp. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too. God, Blaine. Gonna show you just how much.” 

And then, well, they both get a little messy. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Nineteen Months Later…**

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_  
 _ **~Kurt & Blaine~**_

_**The Foundry**_

_**42-38 9th Street**_

_**Long Island, New York**_

_**September 1st**_

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_

 

There is an annoying buzzing, like a mosquito trapped in a room in mid-June, and it rises in annoyance until he awakens fully and realizes that it’s an alarm clock. Not _his_ alarm clock, but an old-fashioned metal one that sounds like someone banging a spoon on a tin can. 

Kurt has just figured out how to silence the spoon/can clock, when buzzers, bells and music start belting out from every corner of his room. He leaps out of bed at the ear-splitting cacophony, trying to turn off alarm after alarm. He slams an ancient cellphone blasting _Going to the Chapel_ on the floor, and knocks an old digital alarm clock into the wall, all the while cursing his supposed friends. Is it really a great way to begin your wedding day, angry and stressed? 

When he gets the final clock to shut up, he stomps out into the living room to find Rachel and Mercedes muffling their laughter with pillows. 

“We didn’t want you to sleep late,” Mercedes says when she spots him standing there with his hand on his hip, tapping his foot in anger. 

“I hate both of you.” And he points at them to emphasise his feelings, because somewhere Cooper must be thinking of him. 

Rachel bursts into a fresh wave of giggles and Mercedes blows Kurt a kiss. “Go get in the shower, baby,” she says. “It’ll wash that grump right outta you.” 

“Yes, because you’re marrying Blaine today!” Rachel adds. “Smile!”

Kurt shoots them both a glare and stomps towards the bathroom. When he turns the corner and knows they can no longer see him, his face breaks into the largest, goofiest smile ever smiled. _Blaine_.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the town car drives him up to The Foundry, his family and friends clutching his hands in the backseat, he finds it even more breathtaking than he had on the numerous visits he and Blaine had paid the place since choosing it as their venue. 

He heads inside with his parents, Rachel, and Mercedes—his best women—to wait in the “green room” for “showtime”, or so Rachel keeps telling him. Mercedes rolls her eyes from behind Rachel’s back and squeezes Kurt’s sweaty hand in hers. He’s got the jitters. Not from cold feet or any such thing, not even stage fright, it’s just that his teeth are chattering and his knees knocking together and he can’t seem to stop sweating. He sees Mercedes and Carole share a look before Carole makes some excuse about finding them all bottles of water and extra tissues, and she ushers the girls out of the room, leaving Kurt alone with his father. 

Kurt isn’t sure if it was the greatest idea in the world, because his dad is looking uncharacteristically flustered himself. He keeps reaching up for his ballcap, only to find his head bare, and then fiddles with his hands. He’s looks nearly as nervous as Kurt feels. 

“What’s up, Dad?” Kurt asks. He figures that awkward truths are better than awkward silences. “Stage fright?” 

Burt chuckles, shaking his head. “Not me. But how about you, kiddo? You look kinda peaked yourself. You sure about this, Kurt? A couple a years ago you said ‘screw marriage, it’s easier being alone.’ What changed all that?”

“Blaine did,” Kurt says without a thought. He would never have made it here with anyone but Blaine. Would never have wanted to. When Blaine proposed, he said they were soulmates, that they were meant to be together. Kurt had never really believed in things like that, but he can’t deny that he had felt the simple truth of that statement deep down in his heart. 

Burt nods his head. “Well, I’ll have to make sure and thank him then,” he says, smiling. “Come here.” He holds up his arms and Kurt gladly pitches himself into them just like he had when he was a kid. 

“This is a very important day for you and for Blaine, and I just wanna say, Kurt, that I’m so glad you’re happy. It’s all I ever wanted.” 

“I know, Dad. Thank you.” 

Burt leaves Kurt, wiping his eyes surreptitiously and making some excuse about going to find Carole, and Kurt searches out the packet of tissues that Blaine had given him the night before and he’d shoved into the pocket of his jacket. 

He’s just finished blowing his nose when he hears shuffling in the hallway and the door squeaks open a crack. 

"Kurt!" It's Blaine's voice on the other side of the door. 

"Blaine? I thought we decided not to see each other until the ceremony."

"I know, that's why I'm hiding behind this door. I just— I went into the reception hall and... Oh my God, Kurt, it's a disaster!"

"What is? God, Angel, you're scaring me here."

"It's the ice sculpture, Kurt. The swans, they look a little, well... _phallic_." 

"What do you mean?"

"Like, the bodies look like testicles and their necks look like... and then their heads. And God, even their beaks look like something shooting out and— I would never have ventured in there but Cooper was laughing and I needed to find out why. It's horrible!" 

The whole way through Blaine's hysterical speech Kurt has been holding it back, but he can't seem to keep it in any longer. It seeps out in a high pitched squeak before his mouth falls open and he snorts and bursts into full-blown, belly shaking laughter. Blaine is quiet on the other side of the door after Kurt has calmed down, his shoulders still shaking a little. 

"So I guess you're not worried about it then," Blaine finally says, sounding hurt. 

“Angel, I know how badly you wanted everything to be perfect, but honestly? As long as you’re here and I’m here and the Justice of the Peace shows up to marry us, I’ll be just fine.”

Kurt can hear Blaine breathing on the other side of the door and it takes all he has to stop himself from flinging it open the rest of the way and pulling him into his arms and kissing all over his face. But he can’t. Blaine wanted to observe the tradition of not seeing each other in their wedding clothes before the ceremony, so Kurt will stay strong for him. 

“Okay,” Blaine says softly. “I guess I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.”

Kurt hums and leans against the wall beside the opening in the door. “I guess you will. And Angel?” he whispers. He can tell Blaine is still there, can hear his breathing, though he doesn’t answer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Kurt?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to come in there.”

“I want you to come in here, too.” 

“All right, break it up, not gonna happen.” _Cooper_. Kurt groans. “Do you want bad luck? You’re tempting fate here with this, you two. Come on, Blainey. You’ve told your husband-to-be about the enormous ice dongs, now let’s go and wait with Mom and Dad.” 

“Coop, seriously?” Blaine sounds exhausted. God knows what he’s had to put up with from Cooper so far this morning. 

“It’s okay, Angel. Dad and Carole should be back soon, too. Like you said, we’ll see each other at the end of the aisle.”

“I can’t wait,” Blaine answers, his voice tender. 

Kurt closes his eyes and listens to their footsteps as they make their way down the hall. “I can’t wait either,” he whispers.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something had made Kurt insist during the wedding planning that he be the first to go down the aisle with his parents. Blaine had given him a quizzical look but had agreed without argument. Kurt hadn’t thought about that moment again until now, until he’s grasping Burt and Carole’s arms and he hears the music begin—not a traditional wedding march, but some slow, sweet piano that Blaine had recorded specifically just for this day. And it hits him suddenly, why he had insisted, his subconscious wanting to be sure that he finally got to understand something he has long wondered about. 

He walks slowly down the aisle between the seats holding all of their friends, looking straight ahead so he doesn’t do something clumsy or hairbrained and trip. His dad and Carole, both with tears in their eyes and love on their lips, give him hugs and kisses on the cheek before going to take their seats in the front row. And he’s left alone. Alone to turn and watch as Blaine becomes visible, coming through the doors on the arms of his own parents. 

Kurt watches as Blaine takes a few cautious steps into the room, laughing silently with his face turned towards his mother. And then he looks up and Kurt has to hold in his gasp. Not just because Blaine looks unbelievably handsome—no movie star could match him—but because he just feels love. An abundance of it. It flows through him in ways he never thought possible and he lets out an involuntary gasp. Blaine is beautiful and kind and smart and fun and he has love for Kurt pouring from his very gaze and Kurt is just—he’s overcome. He understands now, that look that grooms and brides get when they first spot their love coming towards them. He understands a lot of things he thought he never would. 

Once Blaine has reached him, smiling tremulously as he receives hugs and kisses from his own parents, Kurt can barely control his own hands. Blaine reaches out to take one of Kurt’s hands in his and Kurt clutches it hard and reels him in, planting a kiss directly on his lips. Blaine lets out a surprised gasp and grins up at Kurt. 

“Now, Kurt, you’re supposed to wait until I’ve pronounced you husbands to do that,” the Justice of the Peace chastises laughingly. Kurt can hear similar titters coming from the crowd behind him, but he can’t be bothered to turn and look when there is _Blaine_ right in front of him. 

“Oh come on, look at him! As if I could control myself,” he replies, and Blaine buries his face against Kurt’s chest and laughs with all of their family and friends. 

“You look very handsome, too,” Blaine whispers. 

“That isn’t exactly what I meant, but thank you.” Kurt whispers back, and when Blaine gives him a curious look, he kisses him gently on the forehead and turns back to look at the Justice of the Peace. 

“Okay, I think I can handle it now,” Kurt says. “Carry on.” 

The ceremony passes quickly. They stick with traditional vows— Blaine suggested it, saying he is a little old fashioned and wanted to keep their wedding on the traditional side, but Kurt knows it was due to the fact that he had outdone himself in the romantic speeches department when he had proposed to Kurt and didn’t think he could possibly top it. Kurt thinks he likely could have, because romantic speeches are kind of his forté, drunken confessions of love aside, but he didn’t push the issue. As long as they left out the bit about obeying, traditional vows had been fine by him. 

He squeezes Blaine’s hand as he watches Rachel, Mercedes and Cooper come forward to sign the marriage certificate after the Justice of the Peace, Kurt and Blaine adding their names soon after. And with tears in his eyes and a heart pounding with unbridled joy, Kurt is pronounced Blaine’s husband and they share another lingering kiss.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did Kurt say that he hated receiving lines? Because he—well, okay, he still hates receiving lines, even at his own wedding. But they are a whole lot more bearable when he’s got Blaine’s hand in his. 

Even when Blaine’s grandmother is saying loudly to Mr. Anderson that at least Kurt is pretty like a girl, if he has to be a boy. Blaine looks mortified and keeps whispering his apologies until she’s gone. “You’re not pretty like a girl,” he says. “You’re beautiful like Kurt.” 

Kurt laughs and kisses him, ignoring the line for a few moments.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had decided—after much debate—to make Sam the MC since Santana’s mouth couldn’t be trusted and Brittany tended to go off on nonsensical tangents, but with the stipulation that he not do any impressions, celebrity or otherwise. He had grudgingly agreed, though he had tried to get Blaine to allow him—behind Kurt’s back, mind you—to at least let him do an impression of Cooper. But Kurt struck down the idea once he became informed of it—thank you, Mercedes. But as Sam gets microphone in hand he gets a glint in his eye that has Kurt groaning and cursing quietly into his salad. 

But it isn’t a bad impression of Cooper that comes out of Sam’s mouth, but some sort of southern drawl that Kurt thankfully doesn’t recognize. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Kurt leans in to whisper to Blaine out of the corner of his mouth. 

Blaine shrugs and downs his glass of champagne. “Who knows? Just go with it.” 

“Fine,” Kurt grumbles back, and lifts the nearby bottle in order to refill Blaine’s glass. 

Fortunately Sam doesn’t really do anything untoward, just continues to speak in a butchered accent while he introduces the head table and calls for the first toast. Kurt has to quickly refill both his own and Blaine’s champagne so they can raise their glasses with the rest of the room. 

After they’ve all sipped their drinks, someone starts hitting a utensil on the glass, making that irritating clinking sound that Kurt loathes at all wedding receptions. He’d made a rule about that—he will not give in and smooch Blaine every time some drunk idiot feels like making noise like a two year old. If they want a show, they’re going to have to work for it. 

He shakes his head and motions to Sam to explain and he finally gives up his stupid accent when he does. 

“Now tonight, Kurt and Blaine have asked that we run things a little differently. If you want the grooms to kiss, you’re going to have to put on a little production of your own.” The room makes a scandalized _ooooh_ and Sam laughs into the microphone. “Not _that_ sort of production, folks. But we are attending the wedding of two very talented singers, and they have requested that if you wish to have them kiss, that you have to stand up and sing a few lines from a song and the lyrics must include the word ‘love.’ Everybody got that?” 

So of course Rachel jumps right out of her seat and sings an entire chorus of _Can You Feel the Love Tonight?_ Kurt groans, and then kisses Blaine’s mock pouting lips. 

“What? Don’t you wanna kiss me?” Blaine whines into his ear. 

“Oh, I want to kiss you all right, just not in front of our family and friends. I’m afraid I might get carried away.” 

Blaine laughs and kisses Kurt again, everyone cheering around them. 

After half of their friends from high school glee clubs and NYADA have gotten up to sing, Kurt and Blaine begin to rethink their genius plan. Kurt stares down at his half eaten dinner in frustration while Artie and Mike do a duet of _Pour Some Sugar on Me_. Blaine cheers after they’ve finished—they sang nearly the entire song, spurred on by Carole who got up out of her seat and started dancing since it’s her favourite— and he crawls directly into Kurt’s lap. “That one deserves a little extra,” he says, and Kurt can hear Carole hooting as Blaine goes in for a deep one, only pulling back once Kurt bites him on the lip. Kurt’s lips are seriously getting sore. And he needs those for the honeymoon. Like really needs them. 

“I’m comfy here,” Blaine tells the room. “I think I’ll stay.” Kurt laughs at Blaine’s shining eyes, his tipsy wink, and picks up his fork, feeding Blaine from his own plate. With all the kissing, they’ve barely had time to eat. 

At least when it’s speech time, his lips get some precious relief. 

“My little brother, Blaine, has always loved weddings,” Cooper says, laying a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “In fact, when we were growing up, every time our parents received a wedding invitation in the mail, Blaine would rush into Mom’s office and find her stack of catalogues so he could pick out the perfect suit. And he was so cute, with his little bowties…” He winks down at Blaine and points to the bowtie around his throat. “Some things never change.” Blaine just barely dodges out of the way when Cooper makes a motion to ruffle his hair. Cooper leaves him be, winking again before turning back to his rapt audience. 

“And my little brother, Blaine, has always loved _Kurt_. In fact, on the first day that he saw him, he came over to my place and told me he’d met his future husband and immediately started stealing my wifi, searching for tuxes online.” Kurt turns to Blaine, mouthing “is that true?” while their guests break into laughter all around them. Blaine shrugs. “Maybe,” he mouths back, and smiles sheepishly down at his plate. 

“So naturally those two things ought to, by rights, go together, giving my dear little brother everything his heart desires. And giving _me_ a new little brother in Kurt.” Kurt eyes grow moist as he nods at Cooper, who himself sounds a little teary when he finishes, holding up his champagne flute. “To Kurt and Blaine. May they always love each other as they do on this day.”

“To Kurt and Blaine,” comes a chorus from the crowd, and Kurt gets up to hug Cooper once Blaine is done with him.

They remain standing, Kurt motioning to Blaine to take full reign of the microphone. Blaine nods at him and kisses his cheek to a chorus of “ _awww_ s.” 

"Kurt and I decided that we aren't going to give any elaborate speeches, we just wanted to thank you all for coming here today to celebrate with us. And I personally wanted to take a moment to pay tribute to two individuals from Kurt's life who I did not have the good fortune of meeting, but who were both extremely important and precious to Kurt—his mother, Katherine Hummel, and his brother, Finn Hudson, both of whom were lost too soon. They are in our hearts and minds today." Blaine raises his glass and everyone makes a silent toast. 

Kurt can't seem to keep his eyes clear of tears, and they wash over again as he reaches to pull his brand new husband into his arms. "Thank you, Angel," he whispers, kissing behind Blaine's ear. Blaine offers a handkerchief, which Kurt takes thankfully, wiping his eyes and nose before holding out a hand for the microphone. 

"I would like to second everything that my very smart and dapper husband said, and I would also like to add: that ice sculpture is supposed to be swans, not duelling penises. Thank you very much." He turns off the mic and sits back in his seat, taking a bite of his now cold dinner while laughter rings out around him. 

Blaine slides into his own seat, shoulders shaking and face crimson. "Oh my God, I can't believe you said that."

"What?" Kurt asks around his mouthful of food. "Didn't want them to think we're perverts or something." 

And Blaine bursts into laughter all over again.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mercedes and Rachel had settled the matter of the first dance in a fair and logical way— with a coin toss. Although Rachel still insists that five out of seven isn’t really enough, she had given in and agreed that Mercedes should perform the song. 

Blaine had nearly lost it when Mercedes had wanted to keep her song choice a secret from them. He had ranted and paced and proclaimed that he would rather just give the song to Rachel—coin toss or no coin toss—because at least _she_ would tell them what she was singing, seeing as she could never stop herself from bragging. Rachel's feelings had been hurt of course, and after Blaine had apologized profusely, Kurt had taken him away and calmed him down with a well-timed blow job. And then he had quietly reminded him that it was _Mercedes_ , and Mercedes had amazing taste and would never do something so tacky as to embarrass them on their wedding day. 

But secretly, Kurt just knew exactly which song she would pick. And he was right. 

"Oh," Blaine whispers when Mercedes lets the lyrics of _At Last_ roll off her tongue in sultry perfection. "This song is perfect."

Kurt hums his agreement and rests his lips next to Blaine's ear. "Of course it is, my sweet little groomzilla." 

"God, was I horrible?"

"No, you just wanted everything to be perfect. You weren't like that Marnie girl on _Say Yes To The Dress_ or anything."

Blaine groans. "She was the worst." 

"I know! Like, seriously, can you imagine what her poor husband must be going through every day of his life?"

Blaine laughs and tightens his hold on Kurt's body. "The exact opposite of the bliss I'm going to be sharing with _my_ husband," he practically purrs. 

Kurt hums again and slides his mouth over so he can take Blaine's earlobe between his lips and give it a delicate suck. "Do go on," he whispers once he's released it, letting his tongue follow after his lips. 

Blaine lets out a strangled moan. "Not fair. We’re still expected to act nice with our guests and dance and smile for cameras and cut cakes. How can I do any of those things when all I’m thinking about is you taking me to our room and ravishing me?” 

“Mmm, ravishing you. Now that is something I can get behind.” 

Blaine lets out an undignified snort of a laugh and smacks Kurt playfully on the shoulder. “Kurt! Okay, just stop now. Shut up and dance with me, husband.”

“Whatever you say, husband. I did just agree to obey you until I die, so…”

“You did not, we cut that part out,” Blaine says with an adorable giggle and nuzzles his nose against Kurt’s neck. 

Kurt can’t imagine how he must look to the people surrounding them. He knows his smile is toothy and ridiculous and that he’s got one hand extremely close to Blaine’s ass, but he doesn’t even care. If he wants to grin like an idiot and feel up his husband, well, they can deal with it. 

They do somehow manage to smile for pictures and dance with their family and friends—Kurt even waltzes with Cooper to Rachel’s rendition of _I Want To Know What Love Is_ while Blaine glares at his brother from over Mercedes’ shoulder—and somehow, hours pass. 

When Kurt has Blaine is his arms again, dancing close with Blaine pressed to nearly every inch of him, he decides that maybe it’s finally time to get on with that ravishing. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers in Blaine’s ear. 

Blaine pulls back to look at him. “Can we just leave? Like right now before everything is done? Is that allowed?” 

Kurt shrugs. It’s their wedding and they’re paying for it—well, besides the parts that their parents had insisted on paying for—so to hell with it. They should be able to leave whenever their hearts’ desire. And Kurt’s heart is doing a lot of desiring, not to mention other parts of his anatomy. 

“Should we tell anyone we’re leaving?” Blaine asks, glancing around guiltily. 

“I think they’ll get the picture,” Kurt says, and then he leans down, hooking his arm behind Blaine’s knees and hefting him up. Luckily they’re close to a door, because Blaine is heavier than he looks and Kurt isn’t really the most surefooted person in the world. 

Blaine laughs, his face warm where he hides it away over Kurt’s clavicle. The room erupts in laughter and catcalls, and Kurt stops and leans against the wall, balancing Blaine precariously with one arm so that he can wave like the Queen, and then continue on to the nearest exit. 

Santana props open the door. “Car’s waiting for you out front,” she says, and smacks Blaine on the ass as Kurt carries him past. 

“That’s mine!” he grumbles at her. He grins at the way she cackles in reply, and then takes Blaine out into the cool night air to find their getaway car.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kurt lifts Blaine up again once they get off the elevator. Well, it’s more Blaine than Kurt, since he practically leaps into Kurt’s arms and wraps his legs around his waist, which causes Kurt to lose his footing and crash back into the nearest wall. A middle-aged lady with overly large glasses walks past them, laughing. “The honeymoon suite is that way,” she says, pointing down the hall. “There’s a big plaque on the door; you won’t miss it.” 

Kurt feels his face heat up as Blaine giggles and thanks her. He waits until she has disappeared into the elevator to secure Blaine with a hand under his ass and begin walking them towards the honeymoon suite. It takes longer than it should, mostly because Blaine won’t keep his mouth and tongue to himself, or his hands, which roam and unbutton and untie as they go. By the time Kurt spots the plaque on the door, he’s no longer wearing a tie and half of his chest is exposed and being peppered with open-mouthed kisses. 

“Blaine, baby, that feels amazing, but the lower you go the more likely I am to fall over and I really don’t want to begin our honeymoon with matching concussions.” 

“Oh, I’ll go lower all right, once you get us into that room.” 

Kurt groans and tightens his hold on Blaine, hefting him up with one hand while he searches his pocket for the keycard. He lets out a triumphant “Ah ha!” when he pulls it out, and Blaine latches back onto his throat as he slides it into the slot and pushes open the door. 

Once inside, Kurt spins them around and presses Blaine’s back against the closed door, making it bang shut, and begins working his husband’s shirt open. “I’m more naked than you; that’s not fair,” he chastises, kissing Blaine’s mouth and jaw and chin. 

“Mmm, yes. Both of us need to be naked. Then you can fuck me. God, right here against the door. Or on that desk. Or on that chair. Or the bed, ggnnahh….” 

Kurt has latched onto one of Blaine’s nipples and he bucks his hips, trying to gain some friction where he needs it most. “But we said the bathtub first, remember? When we looked at this place online?” Kurt reaches up and strokes the side of Blaine’s face. His pupils are blown and his lips red and swollen. He looks positively debauched and they’ve barely even started. 

“Oh yes,” Blaine gasps, running his open mouth over the hand on his face. “That tub was to die for.” 

“Mmhmm,” Kurt agrees, and groans when Blaine takes his ring finger into his mouth and sucks on it, letting his tongue twist and lave at his wedding band. 

Kurt very reluctantly takes his hand back and reaches around to hold Blaine under the ass again and carry him over to the elaborate bathtub at the far side of the suite. Through the windows that surround it on three sides, he can see the city lit up in all of its splendor. They couldn’t have picked a more romantic room in which to spend their first night as husbands. 

He goes to lower Blaine down on the side of the tiled area that surrounds the tub so they can finish disrobing and run the water, and he sees something shining within the gleaming white basin. It’s strange; there shouldn’t be anything in there, and yet…

“What the hell is that?” he asks, screwing up his face. 

Blaine leans over the side to get a better look and heaves a very long-suffering sort of sigh. “Cooper,” he says. 

“Cooper did wha—” But that’s when Kurt recognizes the object in the tub. It’s melted now, the intricate details wiped away, but that somehow makes it look even more like—

“The enormous ‘ice dongs’,” Blaine says, making quotations marks with his fingers. “God, my brother is such a—” 

Kurt snorts a laugh. And then another. And another. Soon his shoulders are shaking and his eyes are streaming and what little of Blaine is still in his grip slips away onto the tiles. 

“Oh my God,” Blaine says, choked and broken as he slides on his tummy so he can peer over the side of the tub’s lip and get a better look at the now destroyed ice sculpture. “It really does look like duelling penises.” 

Kurt lets out a high pitched laugh and goes down to rest on Blaine’s back, reaching out to finger at the shaft of one of them. Well, the neck, as it’s meant to be. He can feel Blaine’s laughter shaking his body beneath him. 

“We need to get a picture of this,” he says. “Let’s get in the tub with it.” 

And so he retrieves Blaine’s camera from their luggage which was helpfully placed in the room earlier, and bright red and crying with mirth, they take their first selfies as a married couple in the fancy bathtub of a posh hotel room with two huge ice penises rapidly melting between them. 

Kurt couldn’t recall ever feeling such all-encompassing happiness, when even something so utterly ridiculous could bring him this kind of joy. And it was all because of Blaine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Epilogue: Eight Years Later…**

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **  
**_~Veterinarian Barbie & Surf’s Up Ken~_ **  
**_The Living Room_ **  
**_New York, New York_ **  
**_July 24th_ **  
**_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

"Dad, hurry up! They're about to walk down the aisle!"

Kurt rushes out from the bedroom, disconnecting his phone call with one hand and turning on the camera with the other.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Nana Carole called and I lost track of time, I apologize."

Blaine smirks up at him from his place on the living room rug. Kurt can read the meaning of his expression perfectly—late again. Kurt winks at him and receives an air kiss in return.

"It's not your turn to kiss,” their daughter, Finn grumbles from the rug where she is holding Barbie and Ken, dressed in their custom wedding clothes—designed by Kurt and hand sewn by Blaine. 

Blaine turns his laugh into a cough and Kurt joins his family, taking a seat on the floor and getting the camera situated.

Finn nods seriously at Blaine and he turns to the stereo with a half-hidden smile and presses play on his iPod.

"Daddy, could you please hold Mr. Mistoffelees still? He's supposed to be a guest."

Blaine nods seriously at her and makes a grab for the cat who is trying to slink away. Finn nods her thanks and Barbie and Ken begin their march down the aisle.

Afterwards they feast on cookies and milk and watch _The Little Mermaid_ , Finn falling asleep between them with Mr. Mistoffelees held in an iron grip against her chest.

Kurt smiles down at Blaine who is running his fingers through their daughter's long, shiny hair.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" Kurt asks, and when Blaine smiles up at him he feels that question in his very soul.


End file.
